A Thousand Elseworlds
by Broken Antler in Winter
Summary: A series of Robin-Centric one-shots that are crossovers or AUs. This chapter: Part 1:When a boy calling himself Robin is found on the grounds of Camp Half-blood. Part 2: But Never is an awfully long time. Part 3: Six students from four different houses, the stars were the ones that put them together, Part 4: For him, being a demon spawn is literal.
1. Always Heroes

**This chapter is a collection of 4 Alternate Universe/Crossovers of Young Justice, Obviously Robin-Centric from the summary. If you wish to adapt one of them as your own then...whelming. Just, here are some rules if you want to use the same concept (vague ideas doesn't mean using the same concept, same position, same character, same goal, same everything means same concept):**

**1. You GOTTA tell me. I love crossovers and AUs. Obsessively. PM me, or tell in review if you don't have that feature. **

**2. Update frequently. Or else (SO HELP ME GOD!) I will guilt trip you to hell and back. And back. And back. And back. **

**3. Please no OCs unless previously established in my work. I won't have what used to be my ideas tainted with Marys and Garys! **

**For this collection of One Shots (as in the entire story, not this particular chapter) there will be a mix between a collection of really short AUs and long ones (example: I'm writing a crossover one shot called Young Avengers, even if Young Avengers already exists for Marvel. I regret nothing).**

**OH AND THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT: For the fourth Crossover/AU, the crossover is with Rise of the Guardians. It was originally beginning with the Guardians meeting Robin, but that one just didn't flow, so you end up with one that seems as if it was just a simple deathfic in the beginning. But not everything is as it seems...**

* * *

**Always Heroes**

_No matter what life they led, they would always, always be heroes._

* * *

**1. He Got Traught**

_This Hunger Games was going to be their last, he wanted to make sure of that._

District 12's booming applause rang through the courtyard as the two tributes held their hands together and raised them in the air. Dick Grayson looked into his fellow tribute's dark gray eyes, full of blazing fire. Artemis Crock was never one to back down. The two volunteers knew each other well, but from the Capitol's view, they would have no qualms against murdering the other in cold blood.

_(Never. Every scar he inflicted, every hit and run, he could never forget. It was never in cold blood. No one deserved the death and destruction.)_

Dick looked down at his hands. They were gloved, covering the calluses and the rough skin. But he wasn't trying to hide the scars, he was trying to hide the guilty blood on his fingertips. Invisible, yet taunting.

_(He can't forget. He let them die. Why couldn't he fall instead?)_

To be a tribute. . . the chance of a lifetime, the chance that ended far too many lifetimes. But this was different. The bureaucrats never realized this, did they? That the Hunger Games were not only an entertaining form of the death sentence, but also a trip to the Capitol.

A one-way trip to the goal of every rebel. . .

It always made him want to laugh, sigh in relief. A perfect opportunity, just waiting for the right timing. But then Bruce's cold, unfeeling words rang in his mind. "This is no laughing matter."

_(It was never a laughing matter. But Bruce didn't understand. He didn't understand that a smile and a joke could be just as good of a mask as a stoic, unfeeling expression and a cowl- just as good. No one ever sees the cracks underneath. It is the cracks he was trying to hide, you know? You can't let them know how hastily mended, how dysfunctional he really was.)_

Mouthing the words, Dick looked to his friend, "Together."

"We can prevail," Artemis mouthed back, eyes glimmering with persistence and determination, and just the smallest bit of doubt.

To kill the president, to infiltrate the Capitol, it was an unimaginable- no, inpossible feat. But training under the mythical Bat of the Seam, if Dick knew one thing, it was that the impossible was never so. Training, blood and sweat and determination pushed down all walls. There was nothing that was impossible with enough determination . . . and ruthlessness.

But neither he nor Artemis were naive enough to not think of this chance as a death sentence. They weren't naive enough to think that they had a chance of ever seeing family again (then again, neither of them had much family left). But this was for the mission. This was for the greater good.

_(Or at least what he knew of it. What was he really, but a scarred child who had seen too much?)_

Ah. . . the third Quarter Quell, such a great celebration, the applause never faltered, the cheering never stopped, the grim determination never died in the eyes of the people of the Seam. It wasn't because they cared about the Hunger Games. It wasn't because they thought that this time they had the chance to win. The cheering was from hope. Artemis Crock and Richard Grayson. Not future winners of the Games. Spies. Rebels. Assassins.

They were cheering for Snow to die.

_(But he never really wanted to kill. He didn't want the blood to stain him. The blood. . . the blood. . . the BLOOD. . . But really...better he who was already stained than an innocent...he was once innocent too, you know?)_

"We can do it," Dick whispered in Romani, the secret language of the rebels, to his lifelong friend, "We will kill Snow."

"I know...it's just that the people of the Capitol..." Artemis replied back in the same language. Dick knew what she meant. She was conflicted. Her father, her sister were both prominent citizens of the Capitol, turning away from District 12 and abandoning Artemis and her paraplegic mother. But destroying Snow meant destroying her family. What used to be her family.

And then there was her mother. Paula Crock would be waiting at home, wondering if her daughter would even return from this particular suicide mission. They had everything to gain and everything to lose, including their lives, but that wasn't what they valued above all gold and silvers and crystals and gemstones.

It was the lives of others that counted in their minds, for after all, they were heroes.

He understood the conflict himself. He didn't know if he should be going through with the operation. The one that he himself had helped commission. The one that rebels from one another districts were in on. Kaldur from District 4. Connor and Wally from District 1. M'gann and Raquel from District 11. Zatanna from District 2. Roy from District 3. All of them ready to sacrifice their lives for the Cause. All of them Rebels ready to live and to die. But with a single word from Dick Grayson, the whole operation could be called off. And the lives of the others, he could be saving them or ruining them. They wouldn't even get a chance to run to District 13.

Was he really going to send all his friends, all his comrades to death? Was he going to get them killed for the Cause?

"Maybe," Dick said doubtfully, fingering his Robin pin (Robin, it was the hidden symbol of the rebellion, the hope of the rebellion), "Maybe we should abandon. . . I'm sending everyone to their deaths."

_(He's not innocent anymore though. Not by a long-shot.)_

Artemis danced with vindictive fury, before a faltering look overcame them.

"Together, remember? But... everyone else, they've got powers. And they were already compromises, but I'm just.." She twiddled her thumbs, wishing for her arrows to polish. It was a habit, polishing her arrows, that she had developed during her years working under her father Sportsmaster.

"You seem distraught." Dick, or as the other rebels playfully nicknamed his vigilante persona, Robin, continued merrily waving at the crowd, talking out of the corner of his mouth.

_(Distraught? They all were. His attitude, his entire self before the mission was all an act. But maybe he already accepted death...Didn't mean he had to drag everyone else into hell.)_

"Of course I'm distraught! This is bigger than anything we have ever done! Bigger than the petty thefts. Bigger than your Robin Hood acts!" Artemis hissed viciously as the announcer from the Capitol introduced their trainer, a drunken Bruce Wayne, to which the crowd rolled their eyes. Few of the rebellion knew that Bruce Wayne was the Bat, just as few knew that Dick Grayson was the Robin. Robin Hood.

Instead, Bruce Wayne was a bumbling former champion whose billionaire status allowed him to drown in his barrel after barrel of rum and beer. His Bruce was very much different.

His Bruce Wayne was the cold trainer, who cared only for the mission, maybe slightly for the little boy he took in, though that side was never shown, but hidden, bottled up inside.

"Then get traught. Or get dead." The fact was that they could go either way, whether or not they were traught. Then again, the Team never really bothered too much with the technicalities. That was what they were, technicalities.

Artemis stopped fidgeting, turned to him and murmured, "How can you be so calm?"

"Been doing this since I was nine, the Robin Hood act, I mean." Artemis clenched her fists at the reminder that she would never have the experience, she was just girl who stumbled unto the Rebellion. If only her allies' assurances convinced her, but Dick understood. It was hard to get what was drilled in your head out.

"And that matters now?"

"Not at all. But what we're doing does. So like I said: Get traught, or get dead."

Those words echoed in both the tributes heads during the train trip, as one by one the other rebels arrived, waved subtly, and proceeded to their train cars. When M'gann got on the train, she created a psychic link to allow conversation.

During the entire train ride, Dick was ached with both anticipation and dread, playing the fool and acting as a weak child who only volunteered because he was too poor to do anything else. A street rat. Freak. Trailer trash.

Meaningless insults better than a death sentence for being a midnight vigilante. Didn't mean the words didn't hurt. It just numbed against his battle-weary skin.

Was he really doing the right thing?

_(He was going to hell for this, wasn't he?)_

Each of these people, he was leading them to their deaths. If they were found out, they would never make it out of the Capitol, even with their liaison Bette Kane. All these lives would be extinguished so easily. This was nearly a suicide mission.

Just nearly.

_(He was going to hell. There was no question to it. )_

Kaldur Ahm, seventeen years of age. His father was Black Manta, one of the lead members of the Light, Snow's defence against rebels. A great field agent, calm, cool-headed, responsible, yet never hesitating from fear. He was a perfect future candidate for presidency if, no when the Rebellion succeeded.

Conner Kent, sixteen years of age. His father was the famed Super Soldier, the strongest among the Rebel's army, his life a string of never-good-enough and the occasional but-his-father-is-better. Hot-headed and determined, the boy had become almost an older brother to Dick, though his understanding of the world was hampered by a sheltered life. Even if Conner never understood it, he was truly a hero.

_(Was he himself ever really a hero, or was this just a little kid playing the grown-up game? But he chose this life, and he chose everything that came with it. Didn't mean that he enjoyed it.)_

Wallace West, fifteen years of age. Wally's uncle, Barry Allen, was a doctor and scientist among the rebel ranks, and Wally strived to become like him, even imitating the Flash's powers. He was loyal, trustworthy, a true brother in everything but blood. He always wanted to be the Flash one day.

M'gann M'orzz, sixteen years of age. Like her uncle J'onn J'onzz, she arrived at Panem as a refugee from civil war, and soon followed in his footsteps of joining the rebels. It was the blinding injustice that reminded her too much of her homeland that spurred her on. So sweet, so kind, so undeserving of this chaos that she decided to delve right into. She was sacrificing herself for people she didn't even know five years ago.

_(No one deserved this life, really. No one deserved what they got in Panem. Not this. Not the blood. Not the death. Not the gore. Not the pain.)_

Raquel Ervin, seventeen years of age. She was rash, determined, good, wholly kind. She was the person who talked back, who protested. She was the type of person Panem was so lacking. She was the protector. Raquel would want a full life, children, a husband. Maybe this was all going to be cut short.

_(His mother wanted another child too. She was pregnant when she fell. There was just...so much pain.)_

Zatanna Zatara, fourteen years of age. Zatanna was here for her father, for all the people oppressed. The moment her father replaced her on the suicide mission (yes it was a success, but that didn't change anything, did it?), Zatanna hardened into a determined soldier. She was going through this, even when they said Zachary Zatara was chosen. She wasn't going to let another go.

Roy Harper, eighteen years of age. Roy, like Wally, like Kaldur, like Conner, was a brother to Dick. They shared the same experience of being orphaned. They shared the mutual pain, trauma, experience, and most of all the trust that came afterwards. So Roy was a hopelessly rebellious teenager, so? They were the Rebellion after all...

_(He can't stand losing another brother. . . Jason was a stab in the gut.)_

Artemis Crock, fifteen years of age. Her father was Sportsmaster and her sister Cheshire, two prominent members of the Capitol's League of Shadows, an amoral Secret Police force that had no qualms for execution of the innocent. But Artemis was his childhood friend, ever since the Academy, Artemis was certainly a hero, Dick would bet his life on it. She was daring, courageous, but with just that spark of insecurity that lurked beneath the surface. She wouldn't betray her family, her new family.

Artemis knew everything about him. And they were siblings in all but blood- they all were, really. Ever since the first day at the Academy, she slowly discovered everything about him, from his identity to his habits. She was rough on the edges, but on the inside she was a hero. A true hero.

And then himself.

Richard John Grayson, thirteen years of age. His parents were an act, one of the many forced to perform for the Capitol. The flew in the skies and laughed even when the world underneath them starved and wept. It was almost an escape from the cruelty that the world below them was subjected to. The Flying Graysons, performing for the richest of the Capitol, who clapped in a bored way that made him wish to break their legs.

They were free for those moments in the air. The cheer of the crowd danced in his mind. The wonder that their performance kindled, sparked was so memorable, unforgettable.

And then the ropes were cut.

_(Like Jay, they got dead. All good things come to an end. The end it came to left him being torn away from their bodies kicking and screaming. And he still was. Only now the kicks became directed jabs and shots at the government, and screams became a disembodied cackle that sent chills down everyone's spines.)_

His savior, the Bat of the Seam swooped in and gave him an offer. Fight back.

He did.

_(Maybe the pain. It's worth it. So people around him, people like themselves can have a future. He'll take all the pain in the world if it meant no one else feels it.)_

Are you sure about the information? Kaldur's voice echoed through his mind. Kaldur was nervous, that Dick could tell, but the brilliant field agent was hiding it well under layers of determination and persistence.

Positive. Oracle confirmed it only a day ago. I would, actually we all would trust her with our lives.

He felt numb, frazzled, unfeeling, stony. Still in shock, not in full realization of what his actions meant.

_(When he did realize them...what would happen? It would be too late to turn back. It was always too late to turn back, he just never admitted it to himself. The overwhelming sense of being distraught...)_

As he filled his stomach with the lavish food and breathed to prepare himself for the next few hours, when the weight of the country was on their shoulders, he couldn't help but think. . . (it was part of his very nature to care about what ifs) . . . what if he got everyone killed?

_(He got traught.)_

* * *

**2. Some Call it Destiny**

_But he can't help but wonder, can he?_

As he watched the rest of the Team come back from their trip to that alternate dimension with that amazing boy called Robin (he knew it was him, he knew it because the name was Robin, as in little robins flying on the trapeze), he couldn't help but wonder. The thirteen year old boy that sat in his wheelchair looked down at his holographic screens. Every second in life, even as he filled it with jokes, hopes, smiles and laughs, he felt somehow incomplete.

But that was expected. Just no one else saw him wonder, no one saw him muse.

It was Warp, discovering the location of the Team's headquarters and sending them all, even the poor little boy who couldn't walk, to another dimension, another world where everything was so different, namely Robin.

He can't help but be jealous, but he doesn't hate Robin, because how could he hate himself so much that he wouldn't be comforted in the fact that he wasn't doomed to fall in every dimension?

After all, he really liked this other version of him. They'd be good friends, brothers. There was no pity in his counterpart's eyes. They had both experienced something crippling, in different ways. When Robin realized who Oracle was, he didn't show pity, he tried harder to know who this other him was, and marvelled at Oracle's genius.

When other people are asked what abilities they would want if they had a chance, they would say flight, super-strength, super-speed, underwater breathing, or all of the above.

He would say walking.

Five years ago, now wasn't it? Five years ago he fell off the trapeze because there was no one there to catch him when he jumped. Five years ago he almost hesitated before plunging. Five years ago he and all his family fell to the floor. Five years ago he awoke in a hospital bed trying to feel his legs. The doctors told him about his family, how he was miraculously the only survivor, not Mom, not Dad, not John, not Aunt Karla, and not even Uncle Rick who lay comatose in the hospital bed beside him.

Dick Grayson, code-name Oracle, turned and wheeled towards the rec room of the Mountain. He smiled at the Team, though Wally could see that the smile was weak, forced. He knew that Oracle thought about the what-ifs again.

It's funny how he was instrumental in the founding of the Team, but he was the one person in it who would never go on he missions. When the partners went to the Hall of Justice on Independence Day, he watched on the security cameras and contacted Kid Flash, Aqualad, and Speedy to connect to their Comm. Links. Oracle was never allowed to have public contact with Batman, for fear of being connected to their secret IDs (it didn't stop Bats' rogue's gallery from using him as a hostage time and again).

The moment he realized that they were not going to the Watchtower, he told Speedy. After all was said and done, he was the one who hacked the JLA systems and CADMUS' motion sensors. He was the one who organized the mission. And he was the one who convinced the JLA through video.

And that was how he became the Team's informant.

He was lucky, really, and he was grateful for the life he was given. Even when he lost everything, there was someone kind enough not to leave him rotting in Juvie. Not everyone had that kind of luck.

Not everyone had the luck of being warded by a billionaire, not everyone had the luck of being able to get a new life after the old one was ruined.

But he can't help but wonder, can he?

He can't help but wonder what life would be like if he did hesitate that moment his mother came swinging by. He can't help but wonder what life would be like if he could walk, if he could join Batman's side. If those pitying stares stopped trailing him wherever he went.

When Oracle thought about it, he knew that so many things in life would be very different. He would be a fighter, he would always be fighting the good fight with Batman, no matter what form he took.

As he wheeled unsteadily into the kitchen to pour a glass of milk, Oracle admonished himself for thinking those thoughts. What right did he have to not fall when all his family, all these better people did? His one life was perfect enough, just...the Team's trip to that alternate dimension where he hesitated and never fell shook him to the bones. The way they talked about and reminded him of the protege of Batman, the other him was chilling, disturbing (heavy on the dis, the other Robin shared his made-up words instead of bottling them up inside, they still hadn't connected the dots, had they?), and most of all upsetting.

It was halfway through their conversations before they noticed anything.

"I just wonder...who is Robin in our dimension? He's probably in some circus somewhere, the boy's got moves!" Artemis exclaims, leaning back and polishing the tips of her arrows (Oracle always thought this seemed slightly sadistic, maybe it's just to do with her background. You can take a kid out of the circus, but you can't take the circus out of a kid. But Zucco did a pretty good job on both).

At the word circus, Wally suddenly froze, turned to Oracle, and gaped. Oracle could see his best friend slowly flick his eyes over the wheelchair, the green mask, and tufts of hair sticking out from behind it. Connecting the dots.

The mask hid everything so well that even when the wheelchair-bound boy at Gotham Academy wheeled up to Artemis Crock on her first day and took a picture, no one made the connection.

"Dude...Robin?" Of course Wally's first question would be about the name. At least he chose well in a best friend. Wally didn't press for answers.

"Personally," Oracle frowned under the mask, echoes of family swimming in his ears once again, "I think the he just likes Robins. Or maybe...it's a family name. Huh KF, much more creative than your name though."

It was funny, really, that no one but Wally who was under the emerald mask. Would they look at him with the same amazement they gave Robin?

His life was so stable, so straightforward before that transdimensional mishap. He was the Oracle. He was the hacker and informant of the JLA, Birds of Prey, and the Team. His civilian persona was Dick Grayson, orphaned, crippled (it was never really the word itself that offended him. It was the delivery), genius former circus acrobat who was also the ward of Bruce Wayne. And stalked by Tim Drake.

He withstood taunts by the snobs that inhabited the schoolyards, pity by the adults who cooed and crooned, and scorn by the high-society members who treat him with polite disdain. What was this charity case doing here?

Dick Grayson was best friends with Barbara Gordon, hated by Bette Kane (for his irritating tendencies, though they both became part of each other's daily routine. Wake up. Go to school. Say hi to Babs. Annoy Bette.), a social outcast in his own right.

He spent all his time in studies, detective training, training to the greatest extent he could in combat (projectiles, maneuvering the chair, jabs, punches, strikes, pressure points, everything to make him slightly capable of self-defense), and experimenting. Powders, lasers, batarangs.

But this made him question everything.

He guessed that if he was Robin he wouldn't have that much time to work on the scientific and mathematical pursuits, or gathering the encyclopedic knowledge. He would be focused on training in combat and stealth far more than anything else. Robin was slightly more cocky, upfront, confident. Maybe he would be less secretive, more inviting, less lonely.

But it wasn't this that nagged at him- no, snarled at him in his mind. It was that, from what they saw with the fight in the warehouse, the grappling hooks, the trapeze set in the training room, Robin could fly.

"I really wonder who Robin would be in this dimension," Oracle said, with a hint of sarcasm that only Kid Flash could garner. "Must be an amazing acrobat. Probably never got to the hero business." The lips behind his mask tilted upwards in amusement and nostalgia.

The images would not leave his mind. The flipping through the air. The amazing grace and agility. The carefree laugh. The playful manner. The flight. Everything that he lost thrust unto another. Maybe he could tell them...just so he could stop wearing the heavy mask once in awhile.

When he first saw it, his blood was boiling, so angry at the world. But now it was just flat. Cold. Mournful.

Accepting.

It was a split-second decision, really. Whatever Batman ordered him. He didn't care if it was for his own safety, these teammates saved his life when he was caught in the crossfire (missions when Batman thought there wasn't a threat. He didn't know everything.) more than once. He trusted them and none of them was the mole. And hopefully they would accept him.

It was a split-second decision, really.

He took off the mask.

Underneath the mask was a face covered by a domino mask, a smirking, pleading face. A face they all immediately recognized.

"Oracle, you're Robin?" M'gann voiced poorly after the seconds ticked away.

"Was. After I lost my legs...well the little robin had his wings clipped. Though I never became Batman's protege the Boy Wonder." He sighed and put his head in his hands.

Artemis frowned. "Why didn't you tell us? And why do you tell us now?" Just the barest traces of hostility. Expected. She would put the pieces together soon enough.

"So this Robin, he is an alternate dimension's you," Kaldur said, treading the topic carefully now that he knew what it entailed. Artemis' eyes clicked suddenly. There wasn't that many paraplegic black-haired thirteen year-old mathematical and computer geniuses in Gotham now, were there?

"So he's you if you never..." Artemis' brows furrowed, and she gasped. Oracle turned his chair to face the cold, gray walls of the caverns.

Conner cocked his head suddenly before asking with bluntness, "Why do you tell us now?"

Oracle chuckled awkwardly, thinking of it all and thinking of how Batman would react to his act of rebellion... "It was a split-second decision, really...but you guys are my, well, new family of sorts, and you deserve to know. Just thought...that since we met Robin, you'd be disappointed with who I am." M'gann smiled so warmly, so much like his mother. Wally just laughed out of sheer relief.

"We love you the way you are," M'gann laughed, "You don't have to hide behind a mask."

"Or in your comedic way, two masks. Just like taking off a pair of sunglasses and finding another underneath," Kid Flash pointed out.

"Shut up KF, can't you see we're trying to get to the emotionally touching part of our soup opera? The comic effect happens later!" Oracle said, humor slipping right out of his tongue. It was nice to be open.

It was then that his communicator rang, the shrill sound leaping through the Cave. Oracle hastily shoved his mask on, and took out the communicator.

"Hey Bats...uh huh...a punishment? Isn't that a bit harsh? No...he did WHAT? I want to figuratively marry him right now...the Batmobile lost a wheel, always wanted to use that line...tell me you took pictures...uh huh...say what now? He stole them and you want to do what? You never cease to amaze me Boss...so A wants me to be the merciful one...makes sense...cookies? Why not? Okay...I'll be there in nanosecond!" Oracle turned to them, took a deep breath, and said, "Boss caught a kid stealing. He wants to punish him with cleaning the Batcave for the next two years. Bats also wants to train him. I get to be the nice guy and make sure the kid doesn't get mauled."

He wheeled towards the Zeta Tubes, before giving one glance back.

"You know, I really meant the part about you being part of my new family."

The sight that he was met with in the Batcave was not what he expected.

A redheaded boy, around his own age, was tied and gagged to a chair, trying to spew out what sounded like a phalanx some considerably shocking cuss words. Batman was calmly working on the Batcomputer, completely tuning out the rabid grunts.

"Uh...Bats?"

"Oracle." Batman swiveled the chair around. "You have come to assist in the pest problem."

"Of course. Your kryptonite is social communication, you make Conner seem like an extrovert. Gosh Bats, take the gag off the kid first."

"-and I'll burn your %$# #%%$# guts on a trashcan fire! And I'll throw your limbs to sharks while the *%#ing &* $#%s. And I'm not a %$$%%$#* kid! I'm thirteen! Wait, who the hell are you?"

"Oracle, pleasure to meet you. I have a job offer for you." Oracle moved towards the kid on the chair, who now held a bewildered glare on his face.

"What's with the $%#$ #$% mask?"

"Nice to meet you too. I'm Oracle, an informant for the JLA. So basically, I hack stuff and have all the heroes do the real work while I just wait around on my desk and do nothing."

"Why the hell would I tell my name?"

"Or I can just hack the security tapes, get the image of your face, and match it up with my database of literally everyone in North America and some more. Actually-" Oracle tinkered with his holographic screen for a minute before "-Jason Todd, nice name, none too shabby, none too fancy. Suits you."

"How did you-"

"You can learn that all later if you chose to accept my magnanimous offer. Do you want to be a hero?"

"Say what now?" For once the boy's speech weren't littered with colorful curses. Oracle smirked behind the mask.

"I'm giving you a chance I never had. You can be a hero. You see...Batman here is impressed with your skills. How you were able to disable the security systems on the Batmobile and such...He wants you to be his partner in crime-fighting. You've got skills. You've got potential." And he's got legs. That's the best part, isn't it? He can walk. He has potential. He could live a life that Dick Grayson never got a chance to. Jason didn't know it, but Oracle couldn't help but be so envious of the chance he was giving. Though he accepted the need for this.

Batman realized how empty his side was after meeting Robin.

It was necessity, fate, destiny. Oracle accepted it with open arms. Who was he to deny another something that he longed for for so long? He wasn't one of the three Fates or Norns. He had no right.

Jason nodded numbly, screwing up his eyebrows in focus at Batman's stoic face.

"What do I call myself then?" He was accepting the job, though not saying it out loud. "'Cause I am not going out as Batboy."

"How about...Robin? Robin the Boy Wonder."

"The bird?" Jason crinkled his nose in barely concealed distaste.

"Better than Batlad." Jason grinned at the remark, walls tumbling down from existence. Oracle continued, "I'll tell you the story of who Robin is, once Boss stops being so paranoid and cuts the ropes tying you to the chair. You'll like him. He's a hero."

Afterwards, Alfred came down and untied the prisoner, giving him a piping cup of hot chocolate and a bed in the mansion. Jason grinned when he saw the rooms, and wondered aloud if this was where he was going to be living.

His face when he realized that Bruce Wayne was Batman was completely unforgettable.

Soon Jason Todd and Dick Grayson were embroiled in a whispered conversation about the 'mythical' Robin, the Boy Wonder, the partner of the Dark Knight in another dimension. Even though Richard John Grayson was the first Robin in that dimension (Earth-16, wasn't it?), the plaque of the first Robin now belonged to the one and only Jason Todd.

Overnight, the boys became brothers.

Oracle wondered vaguely what had brought the other boy to this place in time. It was almost as if this was giving the Robin namesake a chance to fly in the world where it was grounded before taking off. It was a chance that Oracle envied so much, but gave freely. After all, who was he to deny this, just because he was denied himself? He would only cause the same pain. Oracle would never be Robin, but Oracle decided to give the other boy a chance to fly.

But he can't help but wonder, can he?

Because the what-ifs will haunt him forever.

Jason became the Red Hood. Tim Drake became the next Robin. Babs became Batgirl. And Oracle became the guardian of Bruce Wayne's biological son. Oracle's smiles and laughs never faltered, never turned. He was always called the jolliest member of the entire Justice League of America. But he never stopped wondering.

He wonders if one day, he'll fly again.

* * *

**3. A Batty Family**

_But a family nonetheless, and that's all he can ask for._

The family didn't start thriving from the beginning. In the beginning, it was a lonely little boy who wanted to be comforted, a man who didn't know how, and a butler who watched from behind the scenes.

It was in his first year as Robin that eight year old Dick Grayson met Jason Todd.

_Jason Todd was many things, street rat, juvenile delinquent, and thief. This was just another little theft to keep food in his hands. He never knew that he could get into this much trouble for taking a car's wheels. Of course the boy forgot to check whose car it was._

_If Jason had any advice for a fellow street rat, it would be, "Don't jack the Batmobile's wheels."_

_As he was working steadily on the third wheel, a colorful boy came flipping by._

_Literally flipping. The kid was doing handstands, cartwheels, and jumping off buildings all the while wearing the biggest grin Jason had ever seen. The kid had an eerie cackle that sent chills up Jason's spine, even though Jason would never admit it. And the worst part was...this kid was Robin._

_Robin the Boy freaking Wonder! Which meant Batman was close by._

_Maybe taking the wheels of this vehicle with the bat insignia on it wasn't the best idea the eleven year old ever had._

_"Who's this?" Robin asked, jumping at the sight of Jason. "Woah, and you're taking the tires off the Batmobile...when Bats finds out, this is going to be disastrous, heavy on the dis." Batman landed beside Robin just moments afterwards, Robin turned and beamed, while Jason gulped. "Hey Bats! This is, um, hey, you never told me your name!"_

_"Why should I?" Jason replied indignantly. He was not going to let go of his dignity just because a tall guy in black kevlar was glaring at him. He was better than that._

_"Wait, wait, I know this one! Because Bats is really a big softy on the inside, I bet he even likes romance movies and Catwo-"_

_"Robin, enough," Batman eyed Jason studiously, before turning to his partner. They seemed to have a silent conversation, out of which Jason caught 'not afraid of Batman' and 'to the cave'. Though Jason didn't know it then, it was more than what people usually caught out of it._

_"Return the tires to the car," Batman said._

_Robin grinned and said, "If he doesn't threaten you, that means he likes you! So, what's the verdict Bats? Can we keep him?"_

_Jason didn't know why, but something about the kid made him grin too._

_"We can keep him. But you're cleaning after him."_

_"Hey! You make me sound like an animal!"_

_The look Batman gave back said that was exactly what the man meant by his words._

_But he turned to be faced with two wide, face-splitting grins. Both boys had eyes glittering with a maniac glow. "Can we ride with the top off?" Jason asked, grin becoming devious as the thousands and thousands of mischievous possibilities swarmed his mind._

_When Batman's face begrudgingly softened at the two boys' smiles, Jason became something else. Not just a street rat. Not just a delinquent. Not just a thief. He became a brother._

It was in his second year as Robin that Dick Grayson became brothers with Tim Drake.

_Tim didn't know how it could have taken him so long to figure it out. He was thirteen years old, but that didn't mean he wasn't a genius detective, if he did say so himself. The whole time he was investigating who Batman, Red Hood, and Robin were, he didn't look right under his nose at the people who watched over him after his dad was killed. He had always babysat Jason and Dick (even though Jason was only a year younger than himself, who really trusted him at home alone with an impressionable, though disturbingly mischievous eight year old?), so how come only now had he discovered this?_

_The little boy sitting beside him in the cave smiled, "They'll love you! You'll be a part of our makeshift family! Brothers in all but blood!" Dick bubbled excitedly, though still sneezing once in awhile. "Stupid Freeze, giving me a cold in the middle of the summer."_

_"Dick, do you need more blankets?" Tim asked as the boy beside him squirmed, "The Batcave's much colder than the mansion."_

_Dick stuck his tongue out at the older boy and cackled. "You'll fit right in, Timmy. We need a person who actually uses sense. Bruce always tells us to go to sleep earlier, but he always sleeps only three hours a day! Hypocrite."_

_Tim paled at the mention of Bruce. The billionaire was usually cold towards him, though nicer to Tim than he was to most people, but how would Bruce react if he finds out that Tim found him out?_

_"Eh, you worry too much, Tim. You should know how Jason joined us! He got caught stealing the Batmobile's tires!"_

_"What?" How could that even happen? How would he disable the security that Batman obviously had there?_

_"I know right? Jason Todd, loose cannon extraordinaire, steals something and gets caught? Amateur."_

_At Dick's words, Tim put his head in his hands._

_That was not what he meant._

_The silence settled, carrying on uninterrupted except for the dripping of the stalactites. Tim ran his fingers through Dick's hair as the boy began to fall asleep, breathing steadily as they waited deeper into the night, the both of them still waiting for Batman and Red Hood to return from dealing with Mr. Freeze._

_A family sounded really nice at the moment, when Tim still lived alone at the Drake house without anyone. A family sounded really nice._

_Soon enough, the Batmobile zoomed noisily into the cave, and Dick stirred from his sleep and yawned. Batman stalked furiously out of the car with a yawning and stretching Red Hood trailing lazily behind him._

_"Hi Batman! Timmy found out our identities!" Dick looked surprisingly cheery for a superhero who just had his identity revealed. The boy left his nest of blankets to start babbling to Jason about how Tim found out._

_"Damn Tim-boy, you really outdid yourself on this one. How's the cold Goldie?" the Red Hood yawned, taking off the motorcycle helmet and running a hand through his carrot-colored hair._

_"Better, Jay! Alfie says I can go out tomorrow!"_

_"Explain." Batman's glare was steely, fixed not on his chatty partners, but on the thirteen year old fidgeting nervously on the cave floor._

_"I've been researching identities for a while now...Clark Kent, Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance, Diana Prince, John Jones, and it was just a coincidence, I never thought I would find out Gotham's identities, I just did it as sort of an extracurricular," Tim tried to explain weakly._

_"Good detective skills. Don't let them go to waste," Batman growled._

_Red Hood took off his mask and scoffed, ruffling Dick's hair. The younger boy batted the hand away and looked to his older 'brother'. He flashed a brilliant and somewhat devious grin to Tim, before asking innocently, "Can we keep him?"_

_"That's become your catchphrase, hasn't it?" Jason groaned._

_Tim chuckled. This seemed like a nice family..._

It was in his third year as Robin that he met Damian Wayne.

_At sixteen years, Damian Wayne was his own man. He took his own assassination jobs, had a very bitter rivalry with Cassandra Cain and Rose Wilson, escaped the hard as steel clutches of his Mother and Grandfather, and established his name in the world as Nightwing, one of the world's foremost assassins._

_Youth was no obstacle in his path._

_But he couldn't help but curse his asinine youthful thoughts as he knocked on the vast doors of Wayne Manor. Why did he need to see his Father? It wasn't like he felt any connection to the man!_

_So what if he idolized the man since he was born? So what if Batman was whom he based his on-field behavior upon? This was inexcusable. This was weak. The emotions would hinder his development as an assassin, and obviously there was the issue of Bruce Wayne choosing to arrest him._

_The door was answered by an old butler. "Welcome to Wayne Manor. Who may you be?" The butler looked at the young boy in front of him._

_Gathering the same type of courage used to face the worst of enemies, Damian stated, "I am Damian Wayne, Ibn al Xu'ffasch. Son of the Bat. I am the heir of Talia al Ghul and Bruce Wayne. I am here to..." He trailed off, not knowing truly what he was here for._

_"I will retrieve Master Bruce to answer the door. Mistress Talia has mentioned you."_

_Soon, Bruce Wayne was at the door, with three smaller forms trailing behind him._

_"Come on Bruce! Why do we have to go to the gala?" the smallest said. Richard Grayson. Youngest, but first ward of Bruce Wayne, never adopted._

_"Dick's right, we have so much more work to do. I still have to finish reading 'The Republic', and then write the report!" Timothy Drake. Third ward, oldest, officially adopted one year ago._

_"Yeah, come on Bruce. Can you seriously say that you ever liked charity balls? With all those #%&#!&* crazy ladies ruffling your hair and then saying behind your back that you're a $#$%$#$% charity case?" Jason Todd, second ward. Adopted one year ago too._

_"Jason, what did Alfred say about swearing in the house?"_

_"To not get caught doing it," Jason said deviously._

_"Come on Jay, let's see who's at the door."_

_Bruce Wayne turned to Damian Wayne and frowned._

_"Nightwing." The answer was short, cold and contained all the emotion that Bruce Wayne had for him._

_"Tt. Father." Damian remembered their last meeting, it was years ago. Damian Wayne was six then, and sent to live with his Father. This of course did not end well. Soon enough, Damian was off and away, training under the best, Lady Shiva, Deathstroke, and learning all the skills necessary to be a successful assassin and mercernary. Now he was back in the same position as eight years ago, except without Mother standing stoic at his side._

_"What are you doing here?"_

_"I've decided to..." Was he really going to do this? Was he going to give it all up just to please his Father who had rejected him long ago? Yes he would. Because he grew up idolizing him. Because Batman, Bruce Wayne, was the life he was taught to live up to._

_Because deeply implanted ideals are impossible to unroot. And because Talia al Ghul forgot a key part in his assassin training. Batman does not kill. He'd try._

_"I have decided to leave the assassin's life. It has its dangers, and I no longer find slitting throats the cleanest solution," Damian paled slightly in anticipation for what words would be exchanged next._

_"Good for you."_

_"Wait," Jason said, "This is Nightwing you're talking about! Do you actually believe him?"_

_"Yeah! Boss says he isn't a good liar! The file says his tell is that his nose turns pink when he tries to hide something. Same effect probably comes with alcohol, but you're underage," Grayson smirked. "Well? Bruce! Where are your manners? What would Alfie say if he saw you?"_

_"Yes Master Bruce, what would I say?" The butler appeared behind Father and bowed lightly towards Damian. "I believe what Master Bruce is struggling to say is that he wishes to invite you inside. You must be exhausted."_

_"Well Bruce?" Todd and Grayson said in harmony, with grins that would blot out the son, "Can we keep him?"_

_Bruce Wayne sighed in defeat._

_"That's yes. Welcome to the family Dami," Grayson winked._

_"Wait, what?" Drake gaped foolishly, "What do you mean? He's an assassin! He tried to off me six months ago? Don't you remember Budapest?"_

_A faraway look entered both Grayson and Todd's eyes, as Todd sighed dramatically, "Ah yes, Budapest..."_

_"We let bygones be bygones. We forgave Jay for trying to steal the tires," Grayson said._

_"You said you wouldn't mention that!" Todd replied, enraged._

_"Well? What are you waiting for Dami? Stop staring and join the family!" Though Damian Wayne would never in his life ever admit it, the words were taken and much appreciated._

In his fifth year as Robin, on the Team in Mount Justice, his Team met the rest of his siblings.

It was immediately following the vicious attack of the Reds on Mount Justice. The Team, exhausted, was led to the infirmary, where they were taken care of. Then, the mentors left, asking the Team if they wished to stay or not. The unanimous decision was to stay at the mountain, bond as a team. It was a choice born out of mutual understanding.

Batman left before giving him a final check to ensure that he was alright. But Robin, unwisely, had forgotten about his brothers.

"Recognize, Nightwing 20. Red Hood A14. Red Robin A15."

The members of the Team, who were discussing Artemis' first day of school and watching 'Beauty and the Beast' (M'gann and Superboy were enjoying the movie immensely), turned to see who the guests were. The 'Red' at the beginning of two of their names was unsettling, but Robin groaned loudly and put his head in his hands while Kid Flash grinned excitedly.

"What is it, little bird?" Red Hood said as he feigned hurt at Robin's scowl, "Not happy to see your big brothers?"

"You have big brothers?" M'gann asked, perplexed. When she thought she finally understood Earth...

"Yeah! Incredibly awesome big brothers! Except for Nightwing. Nightwing creeps me out," Wally exclaimed, just as Nightwing walked in.

"What did you say, West?" Damian held out a long, crooked, seemingly bloody knife, with a scowl that mirrored the one Bruce usually held. "Greetings Gray -ahem- Robin. We leave you for a moment, and you manage to get yourself almost killed. Tt... Congratulations. Pennyworth will be delighted that you decided to spend your time here instead of being at the Batcave."

"Who's the bastard that did this to you anyways?" asked Jason, cutting straight to the chase, all the while polishing a particularly sharp batarang.

"Robots, whom even the League can't find."

Tim smiled, "The League can't find them. But we Bats are obviously far more capable of this."

"Well, the League never found out our identities on their own..." Robin trailed off, seeing the confused looks on the faces of his teammates. "I guess you want some introductions?"

"What else?" Artemis blurted out, throwing her arrow into the wall beside Wally.

"Well, yeah," Robin said, stepping up from the couch and scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "Um, these are my brothers. This is Wing, he's 19, he's a former assassin who still has problems restraining himself sometimes. Not killing, just maiming mainly. This is Red Hood. He's overprotective and swears too much. He's 16, but act like an irate toddler. And this is Red Robin. He's a genius, figured out who Red Hood, Batman, and I are when he was 13, yeah that was fun...He's 17 now."

Everyone stared at the four brothers, trying to figure out how exactly that works. Red Hood was glaring at Robin.

"Is that how you always introduce us to people?" Red Robin asked disbelievingly.

"Pretty astrous huh? I painted a vivid portrait of trying to survive in a house with you three!" Robin chirped excitedly, all nervousness disappeared.

"Gr- Robin, your slaughtering of the English language must desist immediately!"

"Why the $#$&$# did you say I act like a *^%$%^%^ irate toddler?" Jason yelled, acting strikingly similar to an irate toddler.

"Oh, baby get a boo boo?" cooed Tim condescendingly.

"Hey Demon?"

"Yes Hood?"

"Can I stab him?"

"Be my guest. Unfortunately you must clean up after the blood spilt, they do not have Pennyworth assisting them."

"I'll make sure to not spill too much blood." Tim paled at the exchange between Red Hood and Nightwing

"Use my knife."

As Damian went to the training room, Jason chased Tim, and Tim ran, Robin sat down and sighed at the antics of his brothers.

"So they are truly your brothers?" Kaldur asked tentatively, casting a skeptical look towards the disappearing figures.

"Yep. As I said to Red Robin once, we are Brothers in all but Blood!"

"They're completely insane..." Miss Martian said, looking disbelievingly at the content expression on Robin's face. "How do you live with them? Television taught me that in Earth culture siblings were supposed to be kind to each other."

"So they're a little mentally unstable." Everyone raised their eyebrows at Robin. "Okay they're a lot mentally unstable. But so long as they are family..."

And that was all he could ever ask for.

* * *

**4. Unseen Guardian**

_He's a hero at heart, and that's all he ever will be..._

Robin quickly planted the mines into the space station. He had only ten minutes before the beams vaporized the entire Solar System. The plan echoed in his head again and again. Plant, escape, detonate. Plant, escape, detonate. Plant, escape, detonate.

He was the only hero left that hadn't been taken prisoner and sent to the doomed Earth.

Almost doomed.

He wasn't going to let this end like the Failsafe simulation. He had everything to save and everything to lose, one false step could lead Earth into its complete destruction. And everything was on Earth. Everyone was on Earth.

As he finished deploying the last of the bombs on the space station, the robotic guards surrounded him, with the laser's timer ticking down. _09:03...09:02...08:12...07:34_. The red clocks everywhere taunted him gleefully as he evaded the blasts of the guards' weapons. Robin swiftly destroyed each of the things standing in his way of getting back to Earth.

He promised himself once again that this would not end like Failsafe, he would have to save everyone on Earth.

_05:19_

The detonator in his hand felt heavier than ever as he continued dodging and springing forwards for the escape pods. It was that single red button that, pressed, held the fate of the entire Solar System in its wires.

Compacted destruction.

But this was necessary. Robin would not hesitate to push, not when everyone that he knew, that he treasured, was sitting in cells on Earth or clueless in their homes when they were minutes away from the final impact.

_04:57_

Bruce, Alfred, the Commish, Babs, Wally, Roy, Artemis, Miss M, Conner, Kaldur, Clark, Diana, Dinah, Ollie, Hal, J'onn, Ted, Haly, Raya, Zitka, Bette, and even his little neighbor Timothy Drake. All of those were names and faces flickering in his mind, all names and faces worth fighting for.

Robin's eyes flicked back to the luminescent red countdown numbers.

_04:03_

He didn't have much time left. He had still a third of the way to go before he could escape the steel deathtrap, but he couldn't do it in the hallways, where even more guards were approaching.

"Should've gotten an EMP emitter for the utility belt after the Reds," Robin scowled.

The snaking wires, blinking buttons, and oscillating static screens suffocated him. He unscrewed an industrial air vent and crawled into the cramped space, eyes turning to the holographic glove computer for the directions.

Hacking the security systems, Robin continued crawling in the tight, restricted space that grew progressively colder as he neared the exit.

The countdown on his computer grew louder, each tick sounding into the world and echoing in the labyrinth of vents

Robin let himself look.

_02:34_

The detonator seemed to vibrate in anticipation. The little tool was praying for immolation, wasn't it? Going down with its ship?

"Just a little longer," Robin growled through clenched teeth. Just a little longer.

He skinned his elbow on the rough edges of the vent walls, and ignored it as he did with the burning pain in his leg. Biting his bottom lip, he looked towards the light on the end of the tunnel. Robin knew that if he got out of the vent, he would still need to go down the halls into the landing pad, where the escape pods were.

And then he would have to land it safely. Testing simulations are not the real thing.

_01:47_

It was times like these that made him wonder if there really was a high power than the little humans that scurried around the Earth. Did Rama Kushna count? No, she did create Deadman, but she was above this. Bigger, better?

That was why the heroes were here, wasn't it? Whatever gods and spirits governed the world, they were above these petty affairs, and that was why the heroes risked their lives on a daily basis.

To do what was in their power, even when there were ones with more.

Punching out the vent grate roughly, Robin flipped out of the vent, finding himself surrounded once again by guards.

"I'm not the only person getting sense of deja vu, am I?" Robin asked, sweat pouring from him even when the vents sent an icy breeze trailing behind him.

"Oh right, talking to robots without AI."

Turning to glance back at the ticking countdown once again, he froze in the middle of the fight, being cornered by the robots.

_00:36_

The automatons were too much, he couldn't defeat them in time.

_00:23_

He didn't even get to say goodbye to Bruce. Their farewell was more of a final backwards glance before continuing the mission.

_00:15_

Only fifteen seconds left to detonate the bombs, or else the entire Solar System disappears into oblivion.

_00:09_

He chose this life.

_00:08_

If only he could tell Bruce that.

_00:07_

To detonate, he had nothing to lose but himself.

_00:06_

Hmm, death by immolation, wonder how that's going to look on the tabloids.

_00:05_

He'd see his parents again, at last.

_00:04_

But there were far too many goodbyes.

_00:03_

Pressing the detonator with an almost triumphant smile, Robin blew the space station to hell.

It was all over.

* * *

Even from Earth, the sound was deafening. After the explosive sonic boom sounded in the ears of every single person on the planet, there was a dreading lull. Worry settling in the pits of everyone's stomachs. For the JLA and the Team, it was intense relief. He did it. He really did it. The words 'Was there ever any doubt?' was exchanged between friends and comrades. The hidden invasion was finally over.

The robots guarding the prisoners suddenly shut down, due to their main systems being on the space station. As each and every hero got out of their bonds, they gathered together on the rendezvous point in the Hall of Justice.

When everyone arrived, that was when the question began forming in their minds. It was Kid Flash who asked it first.

"Hey, where's Robin?"

Suddenly, all the talk stopped.

"He should have gotten back by now! What if he crashed!" Kid Flash continued, "We have to contact him!"

"He isn't answering his Comm. Link," Batman growled in a coldly controlled voice that did not leak any of the intense emotion and mourning and sheer panic he felt, "The communication device has been completely obliterated. All Watchtower scanners indicate that his escape pod never left the space station."

The invasion was defeated, but not without a cost.

"No-no-no-no-no!" Kid Flash muttered furiously, hands tugging viciously at his hair, "Not like Failsafe, not like Failsafe! That wasn't going to happen again! He promised! We had a pact!"

Batman's expression was deadly, grim, furious.

"He can't be dead! He's Robin, the Boy Wonder!" M'gann fanned herself furiously with both hands, a stricken expression dawning on her face.

"Wait wait! Bats you can't just say that he's gone! Look at the trails of Zeta residue along the site of the space stations," the Flash rambled off nervously, pointing at the fluorescent teal trails shown on the screen, "He could have used some sort of alien teleportation device and then ended up lost somewhere like Zimbabwe! I was lost in Zimbabwe once too! Maybe he tripped on the communicator and broke it! It doesn't mean he's dead!"

"The Zeta residue is from the mines that Robin planted," Batman growled.

Suddenly a loud, shrill beeping began emanating from the League computers. Batman rushed towards them and opened up the screen to see an incredibly grief-stricken looking Green Lantern.

"Report."

"Uh well, um, Robin...how do I say this?" Hal sighed heavily, "He's gone. He didn't make it."

A collective gasp among the League and the Team.

"Me and the other Lanterns found his body by the site of the explosion. He was far enough on the edge that he wasn't incinerated, but...the shrapnel and the shock wave..."

Three days later, a press release announced the death of Robin, the Boy Wonder, in the line of duty. Batman gave no comment.

Five days later, a memorial was erected, a statue of the boy who saved the Earth, the entire Solar System. The boy who blew the Space Station to hell. A sight visible to anyone and everyone who visited the Hall of Justice. And everyone did.

One week later, Artemis Crock was told who Robin was. It wasn't the last time in the ensuing days that her tears mingled with sweat, she wondered what she was going to tell Barbara and Bette.

Two weeks later, they saw the video Robin left in case of his demise. The last words they got from him was, "Love you! But please...stop mourning."

One month later, the Hall of Justice hosted an official memorial for Robin, protege of Batman. Batman himself never showed.

Five weeks later, the citizens of Gotham finally noticed how cruel Batman's methods were becoming. Each of them prayed for another Robin. Barbara Gordon became Batgirl and mourned for what she knew then as not only the loss of her hero, but her greatest friend.

Two months later, Richard John Grayson was announced dead, victim of a violent mugging that occurred while he was walking home from school. Bruce Wayne did not appear publicly. The citizens of Gotham shook their heads at the common occurrence. Tim Drake connected the dots and cried. They were his two favorite people, and only at death did he realize they were one and the same.

Three months later, Jason Peter Todd was discovered jacking the tires of the Batmobile. The next day he was officially adopted by Bruce Wayne.

Ten weeks later, Jason Todd found out the specifics of how the previous Robin died. The weight of the mantle grew heavier at each of the words. How was he going to leave the shadows of the past behind?

Four months later, a boy wearing a ridiculously colorful and familiar outfit showed up in Gotham. He introduced himself with a cocky grin as "Robin, ya know, Boy Wonder!" Batgirl was going to punch his teeth out before she realized that the corners of Batman's lips twitched. This was for the better.

Five months later, the JLA and the Team learned about the new Robin. They were furious. Superman questioned bringing another child into the hero life. Wonder Woman thought back to her conversation with Batman after their meeting deciding who was going to join the League. Roy asked Batman if he had already forgotten. Wally didn't speak to the new Robin for weeks. Artemis tried to be accepting as the first Robin was to her. M'gann burst into tears every time she saw Robin. Kaldur accepted him with grace and poise, though his eyes retained that bitter look.

Needless to say, they were not amused.

Six months later, Robin laughed the first time in the presence of the Team. They froze. He didn't realize what he just did, but everyone else knew. It was the exact laugh that the original Boy Wonder had. Now they had some semblance of an idea of why the Dark Knight got himself a new sidekick.

A reminder, maybe, of what he used to have.

What he lost.

It was Babs who started it. She began telling stories about the first Robin, the first Boy Wonder, and the times that he and Batman saved Gotham and the world from certain doom. The Team soon caught on, sharing their stories of the teammate that left them for good.

Then it was the League, stories being told to the new recruits and to their own family. Robin, the Boy Wonder, whose spirit seemed to live on and save them every day.

Then the media got their hands on it.

It became a sort of modern fairy tale. Robin became an almost mythical thing that, though gone, would always come back to save the world when he was needed. Once and future Boy Wonder. Kids were supposed to believe that when someone saved them, it was Robin coming back from the dead.

But mostly, life went on.

One year later, Dick Grayson woke up.

* * *

It was a grave he crawled out of. Banging on the coffin, he panicked, pushing up the dirt with all his strength. He found himself in a cemetery, beside his parents. It was then that he realized what the situation was. How did it happen? Did someone pour Lazarus Pit waters in his grave?

No. He was brought back as a spirit. A hero of a higher power who was to do what he did in life.

The moon told him.

It was a crazy notion, really, one that would land him an Arkham cell cozily beside the Joker and Poison Ivy, but it was true to the bone. He was supposed to be a hero then. The first thing he did was begin running. He was in full Robin uniform, running through Gotham, yet none of the night residents bore him any mind. That was when it struck him.

He was invisible.

Robin soon entered Wayne Manor, picking the locks and sneaking in through the security system. It was simple, something he had perfected years ago. He wasn't prepared for what he saw. Bruce was laughing with an eleven year old, black haired little boy. Dressed in a Robin suit similar to his own.

"What?" He was replaced. He never knew he was so replaceable. The jealous pang lingered before it turned to relief. At least Bruce wasn't working himself to death. Robin accepted it. Acceptance, the emotion he had been feeling most of the night.

Suddenly, Bruce walked right through him.

The motion, it hurt more than the searing heat wave that killed him. It hurt more than Joker's crowbar, more than Two-Face's bullet, and more than any physical pain he had ever experienced.

He fled in terror, flying (wait, he could fly now?) and encasing himself in a ball of light and shadows (the lights flickered and surrounded him, these abilities were so alien to him, so uncontrollable).

Until a child walked up to him, and asked, "Are you Robin?"

He halted in his demonstration of rage and pain, dropping to the ground in a crouch. "You can see me?"

"Yeah! I'm Jimmy! My mom told me all about you! You saved the world and everything, and you're a hero so you'll always come back when people are in danger!" The child smiled eagerly, as if waiting for an A on an assignment.

"Well, I am Robin. Nice to meet you Jimmy. No one else can see me though." Robin ran a hand through his own hair.

"That's because they don't believe you exist. All of the other kids in my class say you're a myth. But I know you're a hero!"

With a pang, Robin realized that he still had a job to do.

It began with following. He watched the people, the heroes that he once knew. Batman and the new Robin. Superman. Wonder Woman. Green Lantern. He did little things that made them win the hardest fought battles, though not all of them could have been won. He saved people, children and adult alike, when no other was prepared to do so.

A hero.

That was what he came back to be, even if no one, not even Bruce or Babs or even Wally, could see him, they would have to drag him away from the life kicking and screaming.

* * *

The Guardians never really met the new spirit until then. Rumors, of course, were flying around. April Showers and May Flowers gloated to Jack Frost, saying that they had met the new spirit. The Man in the Moon told them to be aware of this new spirit wandering the Earth.

Mostly they wondered if he was alone.

But now, they watched as the new spirit, a mere boy, sent a gathering, tunneling beam of shadows and flickering lights towards their foe.

They were battling a hundred foot tall Headless Horseman, the Master of Chaos, the one villain in which all of the worst, Two-Face, Joker, Bizarro, and Amazo stemmed from. The ghosts of villains past, present, and future seemed to orbit the monstrous thing. On a midnight black steed, the Headless Horseman rode with, in place of a head or a face, a jack-o-lantern on his neck. Instead of having a comedic effect, it sent shivers down the Guardians' spines.

This wasn't Pitch, this wasn't fear and darkness. This was chaos, pandemonium, all the Headless Horseman wanted was to watch the world burn.

They were losing, really. The Guardians were not chosen to fight chaos, they were chosen to fight fear. And in the midst of the two radically different foes, they were drowning in the moonshine and candlelight.

Then the new spirit came. The lights began to flicker, the shadows began to shake, and all the light and the darkness gathered around him in a never-ending vortex, leaving everything else in the delicate grey area. He sent of the beam of light and dark, and the Headless Horseman collapsed on to itself.

The oddly clad boy flew forwards, canary cape flying behind him. He landed beside the Guardians and smirked at them. "You're the Guardians right?"

"Yeah, mate, what's it to you?"

"The moon told me to find you."

It was at the North Pole, many hours later, that North asked the question that had been constantly nagging in his mind.

"What makes you a Guardian?"

"I'm a hero. Lived as one, died as one, and that's all I will ever be."

And he seemed perfectly fine with that.

* * *

**Finally, I've finished! This took ages! I was originally planning to write 5 of them, but the fourth one seemed the perfect place to stop, since it ends with Robin saying that he will always be a hero. Hence the name of the entire collection: Always Heroes. **

**Okay, so if anyone wants to continue any of these, PM me. **

**The reason I wrote this was because I had a thousand inspirations that made me want to write, but I seriously can only manage 2 chapter stories at the same time, and not very well at that. So I thought, how about write them as one-shots and auction them off to an eager author? And the voice in my head (I call it other me) said, "Jolly good! That's a capital idea!" **

**By the way, the voice in my head uses these accents: Southern, British, Russian, and Irish. I still don't know why. Maybe it's cause the voice in my head has dis associative identity disorder. Sometimes it encourages me, sometimes it tells me to quit doing pointless things, sometimes it has perfect logic, and sometimes it tells me coldly how tactless I was. **

**Anyways...Yeah that's pretty much it. **

**I really want someone out there to continue 'Some Call it Destiny', because I got deeply attached to the character. **

**Review. If you have anything to say, don't be shy. I'll take anything, though constructive criticism is the one most authors look forward to, right?**

**Oh and I watched Pacific Rim, and at the part where this guy gets eaten by a baby Kaiju, and all that's left of him is a shoe, and a bystander picks up the shoe, I couldn't help but mutter: shoe-venir...**

**Edits done by runobody2. **


	2. Marvelous Lives

**This collection is called Marvelous Lives...The next update will contain a foray into the mysterious lands of Romance fanfiction. It'll be my first time...I'm squealing in excitement (internally). I thought that if I want to make a career as an author in the future (not full-time), I should be trying Romance, but not in this collection though. Romance is so alien to me...I only know it from reading about it. No experience yet, thank god. **

**I'm too much of a goof for that. First I find it creepy when kids my age go out (writing about it is a completely different matter), and second, the boys I know? Ew. I only just found out that Secondary Schools have dances. I thought TV made that up!**

**I was just thinking about parents always defending their children. And this scene came to mind out of nowhere. **

**Mrs. Smithers (Or whatever her surname is, I don't care!): Josh is such a dear child, Mr. Po, he wouldn't hurt a fly! Why do you accuse him of fighting with his fellow classmates?**

**Mr. Po: Why would anyone want to hurt a fly? It's not like they did anything to anybody. Damn those species-ists!**

**But now I present you: Marvelous Lives...**

**And for once the stories aren't all extremely depressing. Aren't ya proud of me?**

* * *

**Marvelous Lives**

_Wherever they were, their lives were always something extraordinary, marvelous..._

* * *

**5. Something Forever**

_When all else failed, they would be there to save the world..._

It was a not too well known fact that the Avengers had vigilante 'children'. Even though some of them were famous for their vigilante activities, their relationship with the Avengers was never too overt. Director Fury made sure of that. To tell the truth, none of them were technically their children.

Richard Grayson was only warded.

_("Are you sure he isn't your dad?"_

_"No! He's like a father but...I don't want him to replace my real parents."_

_"Oh, I just always thought you grew up with him...you are the only one who makes him laugh..."_

_"That's what sons are for! He may not be my father, but I am his kid.")_

Roy Harper was never adopted either.

_("Roy, what do you mean you're leaving? I'm your father!"_

_"No you aren't. My father died in a fire years ago. And you don't even have the bravery to replace him!")_

Wallace West was a nephew.

_("KF, are you allowed to stay over for the weekend?"_

_"Yeah! Pepper says I have to finish my math homework though. Uh, Rob...could you?"_

_"I'm not doing it for you."_

_"What? But I'm your best friend!"_

_"If I do it for you, will you finally come to your senses and take out Artemis on a date?"_

_"I hate you so much.")_

Kaldur'ahm was a young soldier.

_("How did Kaldur end up with us anyways? He doesn't seem like the ragtag lost kid type."_

_"He is a good soldier, and he deserved a better life than what his father left him in."_

_"Yeah, and he's definitely a good leader.")_

Conner was a clone.

_("Why can't he accept me?"_

_"Don't worry, he'll stop being a moron eventually. In the meantime, you should get traught, show him you don't need him. Make him want to connect."_

_"Yeah Conner. But if all else fails, you still always have a family with us!"_

_"M'gann's right, but it won't fail. I am going to tell Sharon Carter, and she is going to knock some sense into the idiotic numbskull."_

_"Who's Sharon Carter?"_

_"Oh, you'll see. You'll see alright!")_

M'gann M'orzz was a refugee from the Martian Civil War.

_("What are your parents like, Miss M?"_

_"They didn't really know I existed. There were too many of us. But now Pepper treats me nicely! She's teaching me to bake better."_

_"Hopefully she'll stop burning everything."_

_"What did you say, Artemis?"_

_"Nothing M'gann, nothing at all.")_

Artemis Crock was from villains.

_("Okay, I confess, my dad is Sportsmaster and my sister is Cheshire."_

_"Well, we won't judge you."_

_"Yeah, if even Fury and his completely paranoid ways trusts you, who's to say we don't?"_

_"Baywatch, you just badmouthed Nick Fury. Nick. Freaking. Fury."_

_"Oh. I'm dead.")_

Maybe that was why they didn't necessarily follow in the footsteps of their predecessors. Or maybe that was why they went into such a rebellion. All they were sure of was that they were heroes like their idols. Avengers, but young ones.

Young Avengers...that had a nice ring to it.

* * *

Who would have thought that the first of the Avengers Protocol to have a child would be the one who made them scream in fear? Who would have thought it would be the one who told said that children were too incompetent in this life?

Nicholas Joseph "Nick" Fury.

Or in Artemis' terms: Nick. Freaking. Fury.

Him and Coulson were investigating a secretive circus. The name was Haly's. Over the last 90 years, children had been mysteriously dying in the Circus. It was always a freak accident at the age of 10 years. Each time the child was the most promising of all the young.

Philip Coulson dragged his superior along for the mission, stating garbled words about how it was their duty to look into it when Fury questioned him. Unfortunately, Fury knew the truth.

_("Tell Black Widow I do not need a day off."_

_"Director Fury, I believe it is my duty as an agent under the employment of the government of the United States of America to say that you do."_

_"Try and make me."_

_"Orders from up above, Director. The country says you need a day off. You serve your country by enjoying yourself."_

_"Fine Agent Coulson, but be aware that you may not be receiving vacation time for the rest of your career."_

_"Well Director, what would you say if I said it would be worth it?"_

_"...")_

Nick Fury was sitting in the front rows of the stadium, eyeing every single performer suspiciously. But soon, even the Director of SHIELD leaned on his chair, watching the knife-throwers and the contortionists until the stream of performance became a typhoon-like blur of color. Soon even the gruff government agent had his eyes glued to the performance. Until the last act was announced.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, put your hands together for the amazing, death-defying Flying GRAYSONS! And as always, they are performing their death-defying act without the SAFETY OF A NET!" The ringmaster gestured flamboyantly towards the platform, where a family of six acrobats waved, soaking in the limelight.

One by one, each of the acrobats swung down from the platform, flipping and flying so naturally and gracefully. Soon it was the last act.

_("Well Director Fury, do you admit to being impressed now?"_

_"What are you doing here Romanoff?"_

_"Enjoying the show. This performance certainly is amazing. It's almost like they can really fly. Hello Agent Coulson."_

_"Agent Romanoff. This is the last part in the performance...the woman looks like she's going to catch the kid...wait why isn't he jumping off the platform?"_

_"They're falling!")_

Suddenly the rope snapped, and in an almost sluggish crawl, you could see the Flying Graysons fall, all except for the lonely little figure on the platform, screaming once and again, screeches and whimpers clear in the shell shocked crowd as he was carried down the ladder by a kindly looking clown. The cries were tortured, agonized, feral.

_("MAMICA! TATI! WAKE UP!"_

_"Director, we should leave, this should be for the local police."_

_"What's the name of the kid?"_

_"Richard John Grayson. Why?"_

_"...")_

Two months later, Nick Fury was sitting in his office, fingers steepled, when he went into the city computer networks and ran a search for one 'Richard John Grayson'.

And the that was when he found out Richard John Grayson had been sent to New York City Juvenile Detention Center.

_("Mrs. White, why am I do I have to stay in Juvie? I thought bad kids went there."_

_"Sorry Richard. I wish I could find someplace better, someplace nicer, but the foster homes are all full. And the foster parents don't want a child your age."_

_"Okay...but the kids there are scary, and they keep on bullying me for coming from a circus."_

_"I try hard to find something for you.")_

Within a month, Richard John Grayson became the ward of Nicholas Joseph Fury.

Nick Fury would never be the best father figure for an eight year old orphan, he was cold, but somehow the child was capable of making him smile, a feat thought impossible to the agents of SHIELD before they met the extraordinary child.

Adjusting was difficult for Dick-

_("Hello Richard, I'm Scarlet Romanoff, I will taking care of you today since Agent Coulson is busy."_

_"Hello Miss Romanoff. Call me Dick. Richard makes me feel old.")_

-Grayson. In the first month that he was there, he spoke in a broken English, afraid that the same mocking he was subjected to for his own native language at the JDC would repeat. At first the agents were in shock that Nick Fury- _Nick. Freaking. Fury._ -just decided to take in a child, but soon he settled into the routine chaos.

Oddly enough, it was one month after he arrived that Black Widow, Agent Coulson, and Nick Fury realized that they were being tailed by an untrained child, whose little actions aided them on their missions.

_("Why do you want to be a hero?"_

_"Justice. You can't deny me that, can you? I want to catch those people who killed my family. And I want no other person to ever have to experience that again. Are you going to stop me?"_

_"No. I am going to help you. Agent Romanoff will be training you in combat. Other training will be completed by the other SHIELD agents."_

_"Thank you Mr. Fury."_

_"Officially, welcome to SHIELD.")_

Even with SHIELD training, Agent Grayson was never allowed to go out on field. He was young, inexperienced, and most of all rash. The agents couldn't let this mere child, even if he was a child that melded in so well with the life of this government agency, to go risk his life!

Six months after eight year old Richard Grayson became a part of SHIELD life, a new vigilante began appearing across North America. Known for his non-lethal methods, the secretive hero danced on rooftops, swinging in the night, taking out drug lords, mobs, and crime itself. As he waltzed in the bright uniform, fighting crime while on the other side of the law, SHIELD took an interest into him.

_("What is the meaning of this, soldier?"_

_"Nick..."_

_"When we said you can not go on to field, we meant it!"_

_"This isn't going on to the field. This is something new. You guys all react to these big bad threats across the country, but I'm talking about rooting out crime! Guess what else, I don't kill! I don't want to see glassy eyes staring back at me! Being a SHIELD agent isn't for me!"_

_"You do not have to kill."_

_"But don't you see? I'm investigating and solving cases thrown in a garbage years ago! Keeping people safe. I have to do this. I couldn't for my mom and dad."_

_"..."_

_"So what's the verdict boss?"_

_"I will be assigning your cases Agent..."_

_"Robin. My codename is Robin."_

_"The bird."_

_"It's a family name.")_

Robin became a part-time SHIELD agent, patrolling major cities of North America in the Nightwing, a sleek, soundless jet given to him by SHIELD.

_("Woah, Nick! What's this?"_

_"Since you have decided to patrol these cities, I have decided that you will be in need of transportation, and is there anything you would prefer over this?"_

_"No. This is the best. I'm gonna call it...um...Nightwing! This is astrous! You're the best, Nick!)_

Three months later the Avengers were formed. Six months later, the Avengers met Robin.

It was the type of abnormal day at Avengers Tower that there was no enemy or villain to defeat. At 0600 hours, Tony Stark was awakened by a loud argument between Nick Fury and...a child? It confused him to no end. How was this even possible? Even with his genius IQ (and no, he wasn't being egotistical at all) Tony Stark could not think of even one child who could argue with Nick Fury and get out unscathed. Himself included (or at least that's what Pepper says).

The sight he was met with as he stumbled down the stairs rubbing his temples at the noise, was not what he expected.

It was a eight year old boy in a cast, screaming his head off at Nick Fury. Nick. Freaking. Fury. The oddest thing was that the boy was dressed in a red tunic, yellow cape, green tights, pixie boots, and a domino mask. Wait, wasn't that the Robin character everyone was tittering about?

Definitely twilight zone.

_("Nick, listen to me, NICK! You can't take me off Robin! You're impossible, you know that? It was just one loss! Two-Face won't be out again!"_

_"That would have cost your life if Black Widow did not arrive."_

_"Oh and you never get into life or death situations, do you?"_

_"No."_

_"Do I need to remind you? By the way, you have an audience Nick, he gaping at us like a goldfish. He seems disconcerted, heavy on the dis."_

_"Stark! What is the meaning of this?"_

_"Fury, I didn't do anything wrong, this is_ my _tower. But you my friend, you are being told off by a mere child, what is the meaning of _that_?"_

_"I'm an agent of SHIELD. What else?"_

_"But you're a vigilante! You're that Robin kid!"_

_"And additionally an agent of SHIELD. I am not impressed with your hacking skills Mr. Stark. I would have expected you hacked the SHIELD databases ages ago! What with your long record of insubordination-"_

_"Agent Robin. Report back to SHIELD, where you will be facing discipline for hacking the Avengers Protocol database."_

_"No."_

_"What? Kid, you don't say no to Nick Fury! You don't know what you're getting into!"_

_"I know exactly what I am getting into. Come on Nick! You got to let me out! You can't take this away from me. And you know I've been trained by the best, the agents won't be able to keep me in. I don't need your permission, but I need your support. You can't go thinking of me as your ward on field-"_

_"You have a ward? Goddammit, Fury, you're surprising me everyday!"_

_"Shut your mouth Stark. Very well Robin. You are not stripped of your status as an Agent. However, you will be doing double training sessions with Black Widow once you return to base."_

_"Wait, Natasha knows about this and never thought to tell me?")_

It was very soon that he melded into the lives of the Avengers, and they found themselves fiercely protective of their 'Junior Agent'.

_("Hey Junior Agent."_

_"Don't call me that! And Tony would you stop touching my hair? It's annoying!")_

Robin became part of the daily lives, it was routine to see him practice in the newly installed gymnastics and trapeze gym.

_("Hey Clint."_

_"Robin. You used to be in a circus right?"_

_"Yep, high-flier. The very best. Can breathe fire too, sneaked out at night to do it with Marko. Juggling, throwing knives, tried tightrope once, I got halfway through before Zitka knocked me off. Though if my mom would have freaked if she ever saw me go on the tightrope."_

_"Wait, I think I remember seeing you're parents at this exposition where Carson's Carnival of Travelling Wonders and Haly's Circus joined up in a performance!"_

_"I remember my dad saying something about a weedy kid who aimed well!"_

_"Weedy?"_

_"Still don't know what Tasha sees in you.")_

But it wasn't long before someone else came into the lives of those at Avengers Tower.

* * *

Considering the way that fifteen year old Roy Harper entered the life of Clint Barton, it would certainly not be surprising to say that the tension between the two was always brimming beneath the surface.

They met when Clint was in the Avengers Tower.

Fifteen year old Roy Harper was being chased by thugs claiming he had stolen all their goods and thrown it to some random street kids. Hiding in the Tower, while the thugs searched, Roy Harper pinned every single one of them with an arrow, except for two that were pinned with the same one.

And then he pinned Clint.

Clint Barton, a top field agent, pinned to the wall by a teenager. He suddenly had five times more respect for Fury dealing with Robin.

And of course, he did what seemed to be the logical thing. Adopt the boy.

The claims that logic is not an attribute of the Avengers Protocol are not unfounded. If Hawkeye isn't a fit example, please take a glance at Tony Stark.

(Told you.)

Their first conversation was very different from the one that developed between Nick Fury and Richard Grayson. The latter's involved gratitude spilling out of one's mouth and the other standing in silence, eyebrow raised (if you could see behind his eyepatch), and then the boy surprising the man by hugging him tightly and making him smile subtly. Agent Coulson smirked.

Hawkeye and Roy Harper's, however, involved many more glares and threatening gestures. It was simply the dynamic between the two.

_("Who the hell are you and what are you doing in Avengers Tower?"_

_"I'm a filthy little street rat. What else? And what are you doing here? You can't possibly be a hero, you're way wimpy."_

_"What? When Natasha gets here there is going to be hell to pay for this!"_

_"Why? You gonna call a lady friend on me?"_

_"Tasha isn't just a lady friend! She's a ninja."_

_"And they say I'm a kid.")_

By the time Clint recovered from his surprise and overcame the intruder, Roy Harper was glaring daggers at him.

_("What are you going to do now? Call the cops? Send me back to the orphanage?"_

_"No. I'm not, actually."_

_"Then what? Send me to the dogs? Lock me up in some attic where I'll never see day?"_

_"How would you like to live me?")_

When Clint declared his intentions to adopt the boy, Roy Harper's jaw dropped. Kindness did exist in the world after all. For the first time since Brave Bow died that he was speechless. What was there really to say? Other than-

_("Yes.")_

It was only one month later that he asked to be a field agent. Nick Fury saw vast potential in the boy who could pin down Hawkeye and never miss a single shot on moving targets. A perfect asset.

Hawkeye however, did not agree.

_("What? Roy, you don't know what you're getting into! You could get shot, killed, blown up, and a combination of all three!"_

_"I want to make a difference, and not end up as though people who leave not a single little mark on the world. I have the skills, the potential, and the determination. Just let me do what I'm good at!"_

_"Okay...okay...as long as I get to keep an eye on you and make sure you don't get yourself killed."_

_"I'm the one who's going to be keeping an eye on you, Clint."_

_"I should really get a kid who doesn't insult me as much. Hey Roy...wait, what's your hero name?"_

_"Hero names are lame."_

_"Hmm...what about Speedy? You're quick with your arrow, fastest shot I've ever seen."_

_"That's even lamer."_

_"Suits you."_

_"Shut up Clint! I'm never going to choose that as my field name!"__)_

Roy Harper chose Speedy as his field name.

Speedy went through rigorous training with Hawkeye and Black Widow, who filled the void of a mother figure in his entire life, was tested by Director Fury, doted on by Pepper Potts, teased constantly by Iron Man, tutored in chemistry by the Hulk (the only reason he got above B), befriended by Captain America, and interrogated on the ways of Midgard by Thor.

But there was one member of the Avengers that no one else spoke of. Whenever mentioned the conversation was quickly turned away, one of the people smiling mischievously saying-

_("You'll meet him soon enough. The demon spawn's just swamped by his civilian life, missions, and hero work. And then there's the fact that Fury's always going around being asked to dinners that he doesn't attend, and the kid has to do it for Fury..."_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"Our midget Agent. He's on a mission in the Sahara Desert at the moment. Maybe this time he can make it to the Avengers Tower. I doubt it. Fury's got him on one short leash."_

_"Who is he? Why can't you just tell me? I hate it when you get all mysterious, you know that Tony?"_

_"I am a man of mystery."_

_"Says the guy who reveals his identity to the world right off the bat."_

_"Barton's been filling you with lies! I'm a genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist, and man of mystery!"_

_"It was Tasha, actually.")_

After the Sahara mission, this mysterious agent indeed revealed himself to one Roy Harper. It was a tired Richard Grayson who flopped himself on to the sofa in the common room of the Avengers Tower, groaning as he looked around, vigilant, before shaking the sand off his domino mask and immediately jamming it back on to his face.

It was then that Speedy and Hawkeye came in.

_("Who are you?"_

_"Should be asking you the same question."_

_"Roy, this is our midget Agent that Tony was babbling about."_

_"Wait, what? Tony called me a midget! He forgot that I can hack the suit, didn't he?"  
_

_"Fury'll be proud."_

_"He actually really amused when it happens, but he never shows it, it'll ruin his whole doom and gloom thingy. Well, so you're the astrous agent Clint keeps on rambling about whenever I call the Tower?"_

_"Astrous?"_

_"You know, opposite of disastrous."_

_"Hey Robin, why don't you have Roy show you how to use a bow and arrow?"_

_"Astrous! That's so cool!"_

_"Finally, he stops talking like an adult. I've known him for so long, but it still creeps me out."_

_"I'm Boy Wonder."_

_"More like Boy Blunder."_

_"Oh like you're one to talk. I'm your junior partner, but how many times have I had to pull your butt out of the fire?"_

_"Roy, you're going to be a whelming big brother!"_

_"He has this thing with assigning family roles to people. Don't be creeped out by it, or he'll start using his puppy dog eyes and Fury will have our heads."_

_"Damn."_

_"And at this moment Tasha would probably tell you not to swear."_

_"Just following your example...")_

Speedy and Robin became something akin to brothers. Speedy decided to join Robin on his patrols of the major crime-ridden cities of North America, and after days of begging, Tony Stark granted him his own all terrain vehicle.

The Green Arrow.

_("It isn't fair that Robin gets Nightwing, while I have to do patrol with nothing!"_

_"Why ask me? The midget got Nightwing from Fury!"  
_

_"You want me to ask Nick. Freaking. Fury."_

_"Point taken.")_

Thus began a pattern in which one after another of extraordinary children joined in the life of the Avengers. Oh, joy.

* * *

The next one was Wally Potts, Pepper Pott's nephew.

He was eleven when he experimented with chemicals in his uncle's laboratory, was struck by lightening, and left the room zooming at a speed faster than sound. He became an agent of SHIELD, code-name Kid Flash.

It was one month later that he stumbled to Avengers Tower, bruised and with a broken arm, eyes streaked with tears, confessing everything to one overwhelmed pseudo-uncle who had only just then heard of the fact that the boy he would call a nephew (even when the boy was constantly chattering off) was being abused.

All it took was a fierce glare from Pepper Potts to make him take the boy in. Those glares were worse than Jarvis'. And no one could survive Jarvis' glare.

He soon joined Speedy and Robin in what the three of them would call a brotherhood.

_("Ohmygod, ohmygod! You'reSpeedyandRobinthat'ssocool!"_

_"Slow down KF! You're going to blow up my eardrums."_

_"How can a kid talk that fast?"_

_"We should call him Kid Mouth!"_

_"Shut it Robbie-Poo, we'll call you Kid Mouth instead. You had to go blab about my date to Tasha..."_

_"Speedy, let it be known that you shall never call me Kid Mouth! It is the rightful name of KF! And if you dare step over the boundaries, the other side await blackmail, lots of it."_

_"Really Bird Boy? You're taking the dramatic performer thing a little too- Wait, what was that about blackmail?")_

It was the best time of his life.

* * *

One day, when Kid Flash was 14, Robin was 12, and Speedy was 17, Thor brought another child into the mix. A 16 year old boy from Alfheim.

Kaldur'ahm's mother was a Light Elf, while his father was one of the cruelest of the Dark Elves, the Black Manta. In the capital of Alfheim, he was ostracized and ignored with the exception of his friends Tula and Garth. No one but himself knew of his origins, but his mixed race Light and Dark Elf appearance seemed enough to his schoolmates at Alfheim Academy of Sorcery to call for persecution.

And then he saved Thor's life.

To be honest, it wasn't as simple as that. Loki suggested mischievously to the Dark Elves, goading them into attacking Alfheim. Thor did not stand for it, leading warriors of Alfheim to fight back. Students were chosen for the armies by the professors, who overlooked Kaldur and Garth because of their isolation from the rest of the population of Alfheim.

While all the other elves were fighting and falling, Loki decided to sneak behind Thor in an attempt for the kill. And Kaldur and Garth tripped him. That easy.

Kaldur was then brought to Midgard, where his special Hydrokinesis began to work and he was taken on as the partner of Thor.

It was another brother.

Kaldur became Aqualad, a natural leader and perfect field agent, level-headed and always calm. Even Nick Fury had to commend to that.

_("Why can Aqualad go? He's just a Junior Agent!"_

_"That is because, Stark, he shows maturity you sorely lack. When you find it in your disorganized mess of papers, please tell me. I'll have to confiscate it, it does not belong with you."_

_"Who knew Fury's so friendly with snark?")_

Most of all, he became Speedy's best friend, for life and everything that came with it (even Lian, but that's another story).

* * *

Considering Captain America's treatment of his clone, his image as the boy scout was successfully tarnished beyond repair.

Kid Flash, Robin, and Aqualad, the three went against Fury's rules and went to investigate a fire for themselves.

They found themselves at a HYDRA base, with a clone of Captain America there waiting for them. Sometimes villains were just so annoying.

Even though the public was heavily aware of the existence of four child vigilantes, when Captain America's clone, nicknamed Superboy, was taken into SHIELD, his existence was encrypted so deeply that even the President would not be able to access it.

Of course the President was not aware of that.

Then again, the President was unaware of a great deal of things, courtesy of Tony Stark and Richard Grayson's computer skills. It was amusing for the members of the Avengers, and what was even more amusing was the mock reports that Robin wrote in his free time.

Even more than that was when the President believed them.

But, back to Captain America's treatment of Conner Rogers (Robin felt that constantly referring to Superboy as just Superboy became awkward after a few weeks). The relationship between the 16 year-old boy who looked like Steve Rogers in every aspect except for age and black hair instead of yellow was of great concern of the Avengers, even Nick Fury.

_("Seems like you're finally caring."_

_"Back to work, Coulson. My concern is merely in the well-being of Superboy, in the fact that without proper relationships, he will not be able to operate on field properly."_

_"Right. I bet Dick would beg to differ.")_

The main concern was the fact that the relationship was nonexistent.

That, however, did not seem to bar Conner from forming any other friendships. Robin more or less glued himself to the newcomer. Black Widow seemed perfectly content to teach the boy and attempt to ram the ideas of fatherhood into Captain America's head.

And M'gann, well, her story's next.

* * *

A refugee from a civil war on Mars. Bruce Banner just happened to be investigating the UFO.

_("How the hell did Martians hide from our scanners?"_

_"We were too busy with our own conflicts to start one of with Earth, so we used shielding technology. But please let me stay! I'm a white martian, and white martians are persecuted! I can keep a green martian form, but the other martians can tell by just reading my mind...I have Earth TV though, and, well, I want a second chance. I don't want to be a monster."_

_"...Don't we all.")_

And soon this fugitive became a hero.

_("Hey Miss M, wanna go patrolling? It's a Junior Agent thing."_

_"Sure Robin. But do I have to go alone?"_

_"Oh, I'll go with Megalicious!"_

_"No, KF, you're going with me today. Especially since Roy walked out to be a for-hire! You need to stay with your bro!"_

_"Aw man!"_

_"Hey Supes, you can go with Miss M."_

_"Well, then, whatareyouwaitingfor? Let'ssuitup!"_

_"You planned this, did you not?"_

_"How did you know? And don't try to dissuade me from interfering. The two were giving each other the types of looks you only see Tasha and Clint or Pep and Tony give. Any rebuttal?"_

_"No. In fact, I sanction your actions."_

_"Nice.")_

It was expressed by Miss Martian to her mentor (both of them had highly volatile powers, control was vital, and who better to teach that than a man who was constantly suppressing a giant green gamma beast?) that she felt like she belonged with the other Junior Agents. She almost forgot about her nature.

_("Me too.")_

* * *

Though she would never admit it even on the pain of death, one of Artemis Crock's greatest inspirations was Speedy (or _Red Arrow_), until she actually met him, that was.

Training from birth in the art of the bow and arrow aided her in the path to being a hero. She was coincidentally in the area when Hawkeye was in a tight spot, helped him out, and then earned the right to be his partner. Her sketchy history with Sportsmaster, Cheshire, and Huntress was 'overlooked', and she was accepted into the ranks of a SHIELD Junior Agent, and she was taken into the unnamed vigilante group that Robin started when he began in the business.

It was a good career choice. Though it came with its drawbacks.

_("You're just a replacement for Roy! You're not as good as he is!"_

_"Oh and you're much better, Flashboy? It seems that this vigilante has difficulty getting anyone to remember his name!"_

_"When are those two just going to kiss each other and get it over with?"_

_"Sometimes, Clint, you can just be so relentlessly immature! And when did you start commenting on your protege's love life?")_

But soon, she also became a part of life. She melded in.

She became a hero.

* * *

Half of the Avengers were compromised.

The Skrulls took over body after body, life after life. No one was sure who to trust anymore. Not a single one. It was widely known that at the time of the Skrull invasion, Captain America did what was considered a traitorous act, trying to convince the nations to bare their arms down in the presence of the invader.

The world's reaction was a firm no.

It was that moment that the Junior Agents realized that they were alone. No one left to hold their hands.

They conducted a test. Searching carefully, each person being searched by someone else in the group, to ensure that no one on their team was replaced by a Skrull. _  
_

And then they decided to free their mentors and take the Earth back.

_("Are you sure this is going to work?"_

_"Stop worrying Arty! You sound distraught!"_

_"We've got the world on our hands! What we do next is going to decide the fate of the entire earth and the billions of people! Of course I'm distraught! When have you seen me calm at these times! I am VERY DISTRAUGHT!"_

_"Remember the time Kree infiltrated Avengers Tower?"_

_"Yeah..."_

_"Get traught!"_

_"Goddammit! How could I not notice you were leading me into that?")_

It was a little known fact that during the invasion, it wasn't the Avengers who found out about the Skrull impersonators and saved the prisoners. It was their proteges and partners. And no media presence noted the separation of the proteges from their mentors. They never knew they were together anyways.

_("Come on Uncle Tony, you have to let us go solo! We'll have each other as a team"_

_"Aqualad, tell your team stand down."_

_"Apologies my Prince, but no. We did good work here tonight, the work we were trained to we forged something powerful, important."_

_"And before you say anything Nick, if you don't want us doing this, then why train us at all? We have come to the stage where we don't need someone telling us what to do! In fact, when have I ever followed your rules? I want your support, but I don't need it."_

_"After all, you're not the boss of me. I do what I want. So don't even bother trying to stop me. I'll take a leaf out of sis' books and disappear, like the Cheshire Cat."_

_"Artemis is right. Even though I'm really sorry Bruce, but I can't follow the rules of SHIELD. I guess I've got too much of that rebellious white martian blood."_

_"Get on board or get out of the way!")_

A few months later, when a new vigilante group surfaced, calling themselves Young Avengers, no one questioned it. Copycats were common in the business, and now the world was going to judge if they were worthy or not. Any connection to the actual Avengers was dismissed, because how could the collection of vigilante kids (that was being trend established after Robin the Boy Wonder) possibly be connected to those world-saving superheroes?

So the Young Avengers just operated simply. People got on board, or out of the way.

And that day, standing outside of Avengers Tower, the seven wayward children bound together by a common purpose to save and to protect, evolved from a group of friends to an entity. New members came, Nova, White Tiger, Troia, Wondergirl, Aquagirl, Tempest, Iron Lad, Miss America, Stature, next Robins, Bumblebee, Impulse, Blue Beetle, Starfire, Beast Boy, Oracle, Flamebird and many more.

Old members went, Kid Flash and Artemis leaving the hero life, Red Arrow changing to the Outsiders, and Aqualad going so deeply undercover that only Nightwing, formerly the first Robin, knew what was happening.

But in the end, they were always together. Because that day, they forged something, something strong, something important.

It was a little known fact that their bond was something forever.

* * *

**6. Blood, Tears, and Feathers**

_He screams, because that is all he can do._

The first time, they ripped out of his skin and out of his costume, spreading as he fell _down, down, down, down_. All he knew was that _they were falling _and he was _floating, flying _because it just came so _naturally. _He could see the _bones crack on the ground _and the _neck shouldn't be at that angle _and _the blood is everywhere _and _they should be waking up, _why weren't they waking up?

All he could feel was the _horror, fear, despair _and most of all the _pain of flesh _torn by feathers. Humans shouldn't be able to bleed that much and _live. _If he looked down on the ground he could _see _the scarlet _soaking everything _just like his own blood soaking into his very skin. _  
_

He flew even through the _searing hurt _and the _excruciating burning. _He landed by his mother and his body racked with sobs as the horrified members of the crowd stared and _couldn't turn their eyes away _because it was just so _tempting, mesmerizing, _so _grotesque. _The blood and tears were streaking down, mingled with sweat and spit.

He screamed with agony into his mother's collapsed chest, trying to _ignore all the blood, so much blood, _and praying to God that this was all a _nightmare. _A _horrific, heart-clenching, deadly _nightmare. And when his prayers weren't answered_, because prayers are only hope of the naive, _he wailed and screeched and yelled and screamed and _cried _at the sky. _  
_

_Why?_

Why did they fall?

Why did they leave him?

Why didn't he die?

All the while everyone else watched. The faces of the audience were a blur to his tear-filled eyes. But he could still _remember_ the _horror_, the _disgust, _the _terror_, and most of all the _contempt _that they felt for this _freak, _this _scum, _this _monster of nature. _From the first time, he remembered the pain of the _splitting _flesh, the coppery smell, the way his mother, his father, his aunt, his uncle, his cousin's _cadavers_ were all soaking in _rivers of blood_, _the pure, relentless agony._

Then those words everyone was echoing.

_Filthy mutant._

_"_Filthy mutant got his family killed, serves him right."

"Good God, that filthy mutant's soaked with blood."

"I wouldn't put it past a filthy, circus freak mutant to kill his family. And made sure he got off scot-free. Those _things_ shouldn't be _alive. _Disgusting creatures are only a danger to every civilized person."

"Humph, that family was housing a filthy mutant, no wonder they got themselves killed. A pity."

Amid the screeches, insults, and his own _heaving, strangled _breathing, he never noticed it until it was _too late to run _and_ turn away and pretend _it was_ nothing. _The bodies were just _lying there, but something came out. _They were _scarlet, just like the life seeping out of their veins. No one _else _saw them. _They just _floated to him _with smiles on faces, the _empty, pupil-less faces_. _Floated to him and said goodbye._ They're voices were so _horrifying and tempting and would haunt him for the rest of his life. _Time and again.

He crawled back because _seeing them leave just like that, so demonic and terrifying _was too much.

He screamed because that was _all that he could do._

Strong arms came from behind and pulled him into an embrace. It was so _strong and grounded _that he flung himself into it. It was so much like his father, _not the soulless devil coming out of the corpse._

And when he finally felt back into _reality, not a sick twisted fantasy via sadistic mob boss,_ he remembered the pain. The scorching pain of the wings cutting out of his skin, he could only fall limp with suffering and torment, and whisper _since he had no strength to scream, _the words coming out of his mouth were weak and pathetic. _  
_

"Please, make it stop. Make the pain stop."

He can't ignore the voices of the dead.

* * *

When Kurt asks, Robin doesn't answer immediately. "Nightving, vhen vill you tell us your real name?" Robin shrugs and wonders why they haven't figured out he's the Boy Wonder yet after three months. If they haven't figured that out, then Richard Grayson is also a long shot. When they do find out, which he knows they will, he hopes that they won't send him back to Wayne Manor, back to the Mountain, and back to Bruce.

Robin loves his pseudo-father, really, he does. And he hates him with all his heart. His guardian that knew when he needed to be comforted five years ago when he was eight. Now he looks at him heartlessly and tells him that his reckless talk to those demons, those dead, nearly got him killed, endangering so many people in the process.

He doesn't deserve to be a hero. He doesn't deserve to live in Gotham. He's just a feckless fool who failed to follow orders.

Hmm...alliteration.

Batman thinks and broods that he ran away because Robin didn't believe what he said. The boy shouldn't have.

Robin believes them anyways.

So as to avoid ever having to face his mentor after the genuine and honest revealing of how Bruce truly felt about him, when Bruce revealed that he didn't want a partner, and in turn didn't want a sun, Robin just smiles. "I'll think about it Kurt. I'll think about it."

Of course Robin understands that Professor Xavier knew the moment he soared into the Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning. Though Robin hid it well, when he collapsed on the marble floor, he was fighting a battle against a mind the likes of Martian Manhunter.

Robin tried to fend off the intruder with his darkest memories, yet they only returned to that night, his first time. Xavier was literally knocked back by the force of the mental attack. It undid it all though. Now Xavier saw everything.

He tells himself he honestly doesn't mind. He tells himself that he finds it better this way. Though why does it then terrify him to tell anyone else? Why is he still afraid to give to his friends the simple words of 'Richard Grayson'? What stops him every single time he wants to confess everything?

It's actually a really silly thought that does this. It's a child's thought, a real one that wasn't part of the smiling and smirking cover he wears when he really wants to, needs to break down sobbing in memories of rejection.

He can still see the contempt he saw that night when Bruce, wait no, it was Batman, fired him. Fired him for allowing those voices of ghosts and demons to be controlled by him, to risk all the destruction because the voices spoke too loudly. It's a look of disgust.

He's afraid it'll be in their eyes too.

Everyone knows that orphans are patronized and treated with care like they are pieces of fragile china. He knows that so much of the time that's just what happens. Nonetheless, after Rama Kushna threw everything at him, even though he can't completely blame the celestial entity, he has to be afraid he won't be accepted. Thrown to the hounds like every other time.

Even Rogue wasn't as bad as this. The girl at least told everyone of her first name, Marie. Robin just can't stop himself from being so damn cryptic.

"Vhy von't you say ze name?"

Robin allows a wry smile to take hold of his mask-less face. The tilting of the edges of the lips are subtle and strikingly bittersweet. Kurt so shocked at the expression, with the haunted and possessed smile, that he teleports back three feet. Robin tuts before he admits, "I'm afraid I can't tell you."

What he really means is, "I'm afraid." He's afraid he's still wandering. He might never find a permanent home.

Soon enough, they find out, even with all of the failsafes and the contingency plans, they find out anyways. Somehow he's glad even when he's seething at the relentless circumstances that followed him to his new home. He's seething, but maybe he's seething at himself for doing it too late.

It's the first time he's facing off against the Brotherhood of Mutants. Even when the pricks of drowning nostalgia stab at him, he makes a quip, though not at the level of his past standards. "Brotherhood of Mutants? Bit cliche, isn't it? I mean, the Brotherhood of Evil already did that." Once again he surprises his fellow teammates with his immense knowledge of the criminal underground.

He doesn't really tune into how it happens, but it does. Maybe it's because Rogue can't force herself to fight her former keeper, under that facade of coldness, she longs for approval and love like he does himself, maybe it's because everyone else is somewhat distracted by the little soldiers. Minutes later he stands before Mystique, black and white utility belts in hand.

"You're not exactly like the other ragtag runaways, are you?" she says seductively, taking the form of Emma Frost momentarily before morphing back to her blue skin and deep red hair. She stands ready to fight, she isn't one of those metas or mutants who completely rely on their powers. He isn't either.

He spent the first 13 years of his life afraid to spread his wings because he could bleed out.

"No, I'm not. They're overwhelmed, you're underwhelmed, I'm whelmed."

He sends a volley of attacks towards his adversary, including mid-air flips, twists, driving her into the wall of the facility. She has considerable skills in martial arts. She's a fighter, she has to be. He's a fighter for the same reason. It's how the best learn, through necessity.

Robin fights because that's all that he can do.

He hesitates, wondering if he should ask the echoing voices of the dead that his mutation lets him hear, if he should answer their calls with a simple, "Please help." Their screams and frustrations won't stop. He tries to ignore them, but stumbles whenever one screams.

Throughout the fight, Mystique is pleasantly surprised. She expected the new recruit to be an easy picking, young and probably naive. Amused and somewhat exhausted, she knows why Xavier chose the boy. Amused, the boy wasn't aiming to kill. Exhausted, the boy was definitely trained, but she's Mystique, so she stands a fair chance. Many of the other members of the Brotherhood would be surrendering immediately.

Mystique also knows how to play with her foes.

"You are trained. You can be a member of the Brotherhood. You're definitely good enough. Don't you want to fight back against those who persecute, those who aren't even worthy?"

He momentarily pauses. Those dark memories pass through his mind, those of the taunts, those of anger, those of hatred, and those of fists against a small frame. But then there are those who helped him when the time was dark. The people who made it possible for Nightwing to spread his wings without ripping apart flesh and streaming multi-cellular matrix, or blood. How could he betray them so heartlessly and mindlessly?

"I've already joined with the World's Finest, thank you very much," he chirps back, and he doesn't even have to force out the answer. Shadowcat hears, grins, and winks at him before going back to helping Nightcrawler. The fight around him isn't looking good though.

Even with the elusive and notoriously moody Wolverine joining the fight up against Lady Deathstrike, even with Beast, Cyclops, and Storm trying to beat Magneto into the ground, they are still losing.

It's just not enough.

He decides to call in reinforcements.

There are those not directly affiliated with the League, those heroes he met and those heroes he trusts. If there is one thing that Richard Grayson has, it is connections. First the Team. They are worried to death about him, and want to punch and or hug him, but that will have to wait until after they win.

When Kid Flash, Artemis, Miss Martian, Aqualad, Superboy, Zatanna, Rocket, Beast Boy, Red Arrow, Blue Beetle, and even Cheshire, as she's human and doesn't want to be exterminated by a sanctimonious psychopath, arrive, recognizing Robin although shocked at the wings, the X-Men aren't sure what's happening, except for Professor X, who smiles. They first wonder wildly if the newcomers are the Brotherhood's reinforcements, and they panic before calming since they really can't survive any more enemies. All doubts vanish when Kid Flash decides to trip Quicksilver.

Robin cackles. Something that scares Shadowcat, worries Nightcrawler, but Iceman loves. Personally, Iceman thinks it's cool. Unique. Maybe a bit freaky.

A minute passes, and the battle rages on as heated as ever. Only Robin is waiting for something. Batgirl, Catwoman, Deadman, the Question, and Knight arrive. Once again, the X-Men are shocked by the presence, but Magneto even more so, because he's a hundred percent sure that he never seen those inferior humans before.

Twenty seconds have to roll by before Batgirl asks Robin who the enemy is, Robin points at Magneto, Magneto gets a roundhouse kick to the head courtesy of an antsy Catwoman and Wolverine couldn't be more pleased.

Robin is flipping over Mystique without using his wings, and calls the dead to him to aid him in the battle. He can't silence them, so he chooses to let them in once, they listen, and the enemies around him are quickly struck down.

He is then struck with a terrifying thought, "Kid Flash, please don't flirt with Rogue!" Or Jubilee, or Marvel Girl, or Dazzler, or White Queen, and especially not Shadowcat.

Robin _really_ doesn't want Nightcrawler to become a murderer.

Kyle Rayner, Argent, Cyborg, Raven, Starfire, Troia, Zachary Zatara, Mas y Menos, and Bushido land in an odd version of the T-car. They recognize their former leader even without the mask and with the addition of wings. The dead are screaming now, they want more bloodshed. They want to kill.

It's a very bad time, but Iceman chooses to fist-pump anyways.

Beast Boy waves at his other team.

The Team is very confused at Robin's affiliation with the Teen Titans, shaking their heads at the mysteriousness of the Boy Wonder.

Zatanna waves at her cousin, who rolls his eyes snobbishly and waves back.

And by now the X-Men have decided to no longer be surprised. Storm actually beams.

It's when they send the Brotherhood of Mutants packing that the attention finally turns to the reinforcements. "Where the hell have you been, Robin?" Artemis screams before tackling him. The Titans, the Bat Family members, and the Team follow suit while the X-Men turn to their dear Professor X for answers. Xavier nods his head curtly towards the overwhelmed hero, telling them to just wait.

The voices around Robin are drowning, questions one after another. He tries to answer them, but the speedster talk never does good for the mind, and he's exhausted from battling Mystique and so many more.

Instead he explains to the X-Men who he is. Robin, that is.

Professor X is proud. Wolverine raises an eyebrow. Storm beams at the revelation. Kitty's ecstatic and excited since she is a fan of Batman and Robin. Rogue smirks. Iceman gives him a rather slow thumbs up. And the rest of them are just genuinely, pleasantly surprised.

Nightcrawler's just content that his question is answered.

The look of contempt and disgust is nowhere. He's among friends and family, people who would follow him to the ends of the Earth, and to which he would return the favor. He decides the home he is looking for is wherever there are those he cares for, and those who care back.

Robin wonders whether or not he was mistaken about that look of disgust Bruce gave him. Recollecting, it seems like fear and worry. It doesn't matter.

For the first time since he was eight, he doesn't hear the ghosts anymore.

He smiles because that's all he wants to do.

* * *

**7. A Someone Who Understands...**

_...was what they both needed, but they just have to settle for dealing with the other. _

It was three months before Peter Parker got bitten by the spider that the rumors started spreading throughout NYC. Robin the Boy Wonder was being spotted across New York, apprehending criminals, even when a week before the sightings, Robin was pronounced dead by a well-publicized bullet through the shoulder and a hard fall while attempting to foil Joker's plot.

Everyone heard of it. The tragic fate of the world's most famous protege sent rippling waves of grief and tragedy throughout the country. Then there were the people bemoaning the foolishness of having children be heroes. Truly tragic, but not truly unexpected.

Peter thought that maybe it was an imitator. Someone who wouldn't last long anyways. When did copycats ever?

It was around the time that the rumors began that Midtown High saw a new student enter their grounds by the name of Rick Grey.

Rick Grey seemed a little out of the ordinary, but never particularly extraordinary. He excelled in his classes, 14 years of age but in the same grade as Peter. There was a way he talked to people, you would expect him to be an aristocrat with his manners. But mostly he kept his distance, more like a lone member of the audience than participating in the circus of life.

Gwen was all for making friends with the new kid. Of course, Gwen was...Gwen (with all her silky blonde hair, vibrant blue eyes, her brilliant smile, and everything about her perfect), maybe that was why she was so eager to befriend Rick Grey. Nevertheless, Peter was taken along the ride, and found out just how hard it was to gain the new student's trust and friendship.

It was after class that Gwen took Peter to find the new student. Rick Gray was a short boy, not at all looking like his supposed 14 years of age. He had shaggy red hair that looked somewhat unnatural, dull green eyes empty covered by a pair of large glasses, freckles splattered across his face, and an air of someone who was very much not himself, literally.

"Hi, I'm Gwen Stacy! I heard you're new to our school, do you need any help with anything? Settling down? Finding classes? Oh, and this is Peter."

"Hello, pleasure to meet you both. Thank you for your offer, but I am comfortable where I am, for now. I hope to see you around the school." Rick Grey smiled, turned and left.

Just like that.

Over the next few weeks, Rick waved to him in the hallway but did nothing to befriend anyone. It wasn't until long after his first arrival at the school that he and Rick became...something similar of friends. And when Rick stopped wearing his figurative mask.

Peter never knew why it seemed to be the goal of Flash Thompson to commit to ever jock stereotype known to man, but the hulking mass of muscles (but no brains) did it well. From head to toe.

Anyways, it was stuffed in a locker, one day after discovering his powers, that Peter actually befriended Rick. It was another average day at Midtown High. Peter Parker was being thrown into lockers, pushed around, and desperately trying to suppress the super-strength that threw Flash Thompson into a wall a day ago.

Desperately.

He couldn't see much out of the air holes on the top of the locker, but he could hear.

It was a punch, Flash screeching, and a distinct mutter of, "Just stopped getting called Gypsy Trash, and this joker comes along? Not feeling the aster. At least I can stop being a wimpy mathlete."

Soon, Peter was pulled out of the locker, and trying to suppress the protest that he could do it himself. After all, he had a secret to protect, right?

Something abut that day clicked, with the originally incredibly introverted Rick Grey sitting with Peter and chatting amiably nonstop, Gwen being overall pleased that her attempts of taking Rick out of his hole worked, MJ exchanging knowing smirks with Rick whenever Peter was staring longingly at Gwen, Harry finally deciding that having a 'kid' as a friend wasn't as bad as it seemed, and Peter finally had someone who could talk science with him (one time Rick mistakenly called Peter Wally).

Twas all in good fun, wasn't that what teenage life was supposed to be like? The spider powers were a fun bonus, and maybe a way to earn some dough and help Uncle Ben and Aunt May out.

And then Uncle Ben was killed.

It was his fault. How could he have been so stupid-_so selfish _to let that robber go? He should have- _he could have _done something! The killer was just _right in front of him _and he could see the man holding the gun, so close yet so far, just about to shoot, and he could _feel himself _gripping the man's jacket, _but only in imagination _because when great power came with great responsibility, he decided to chose _irresponsibility and smug grin that only after it was too late turned to horror _instead.

Now, instead of hearing Uncle Ben's smiling voice, it was Aunt May _continuously sobbing_ and he couldn't even comfort her, _because how can he comfort her when he was the one who got Uncle Ben killed?__  
_

He couldn't tell anyone at all that he should have stopped the robber, that it was _his fault, _because the school counselor _who knew nothing _offhandedly dismissed it as survivor's guilt. She signed the paper, tried to reassure him and sent him off.

There he goes, mission accomplished. Another golden star on her resume. Fixed a broken child, didn't she?

Peter's friends tried to move on, business as usual, saying some comforting words before the moment got so awkward and the air so thick that they could only turn away and pretend nothing ever happened while everyone was aware of the suffocating feeling. They couldn't say the right things, none of them had experience in it. They were lost, confused, and they just tried to carry on.

All the while Rick held this coldly contained rage (better contained than Harry's, at least not punching any walls), as well as something stranger, something calculating, measuring Peter by looking straight into the other boy's irises. Eyes being the windows to the soul, right?

Rick wasn't voicing a single thing. He just stared. Maybe he was so young that he had never heard word of death? Something was just nagging that the answer wasn't the obvious one. It couldn't be that simple, because nothing about Rick was simple.

Then he finally said something. The tone was almost bored, as if waiting for something that seemed to be taking forever. The stare was hardened, empty eyes that had seen so much it shut down. The expression was puzzled, as if wondering why something was going to the way it was. But it was the words, delivered with a personal touch of wistfulness, that changed everything.

"Aren't you going to do something about this?"

That night he donned the Spider-Man costume. And that night he confirmed the rumors attacking NYC the last few months.

He was swinging halfway across the city when he met Robin, the Boy Wonder. It was a normal robbery (but normal robberies can turn into something fatal, he had to remember that), with Robin swiftly and efficiently knocking down the thugs and taunting them mercilously. Spider-Man shot a web out and disabled the other criminals, while Robin turned to him and smirked sadly.

"Name?" One hand was thrust out to shake.

"Spider-Man."

"New to the vigilante game?"

"Yup." He popped the P.

They worked together for the rest of the night, swinging through the rooftops. Spider-Man was then 50% sure that his was the real Robin, not a copycat. The flips done midair on the grappling hook that seemed to always be at Robin's hand were sights to behold. Perfectly graceful things. It was a performance done to the skyscrapers and the beeping traffic of the late-night streets. And even with the not-so glamorous audience, the performance held all its glory. Spider-Man was at the front seat.

Exchanging quips, puns, and Robin's insane slaughtering (wait no, _innovation_) of the English language that Peter swore he heard before, Spider-Man hoped that this really was the real and genuine Robin, because it was surely a lot of fun patrolling NYC with him, and it was nice to have someone who could be a friend. Someone in the business. Someone who woudl last.

It was the end of the night when he finally worked up the courage (no wait, the _bravado_) to ask. "Are you the real Robin? The buzzards at the Daily Bugle seem to think otherwise."

"Of course I'm the real Robin, webhead! If I'm a new hero, you'd think I'd be smart enough to think up a new name! And if I did...Nightwing, or Flamebird."

"Somebody's got a feather fetish."

"Says the guy with the spider fetish."

"Going to ignore you ever said that, Birdy. So...then why did you leave Gotham? You're the legend there, but here you're just an unbelievable urban myth."

Robin's look darkened. It was seconds before Peter realized that he topic broached was not a lighthearted one, and seconds before Robin answered. A bitter growl unlike the ebullient playfulness bursting out of a dam minutes before.

"If you want to know, I got shot through the shoulder by Joker, Batman thought I being a sloppy, insubordinate, kid, and he kicked my butt right out of his city, telling me to stay the hell out of Gotham and crime-fighting until I go die in a hole. I asked for help from some so-called friends and they turned me down because they're unreliable bastards. No one else outside of Gotham knows my identity. Where else should I go?" Each word spat was envenomed, spikes thrown towards whomever those faux friends and traitorous mentors were.

The silence was so dense it seemed tangible. "I don't know? Bludhaven?" Peter had a way of somewhat successfully ending awkward silences, albeit not in the most tactful manner. But this wasn't time for tact. If the silence continued, Peter was somewhat sure he would die of asphyxiation.

"Bludhaven is Gotham's sister city, you think Batman would find me and trash everything I have if even set foot in there to fight crime." If so, then who funds Robin? Peter knew that Batman had to be wealthy, or at least have backers with estates in the billions. If Batman didn't want Robin to fly, then he could simply clip the wings by cutting off funds.

"What now?" Peter cocked his head to the side.

"Gonna prove to him that I don't need him to hold my hand. He's not my father, and he isn't going to be a replacement any time soon."

That was the end of the conversation.

Honestly, Spider-Man was relieved. The topic like a half-iced pond, you didn't know when you were going to fall through and drown. However, when the clock on Brooklyn penthouse struck 3 o'clock in the morning, Spider-Man wished Robin's leaving words were about Batman instead.

"See you tonight? Same Spider-Time, same Spider-Place?" Spider-Man turned to shoot off a web and swing. To tell the truth, the patrol was a huge stress reliever and distraction from the guilt and turmoil swarming him from his _stupid and selfish mistake_, and after all, spending time with a fellow hero was fun. He really liked the other vigilante.

"Hilarious, Spidey. Genius, really. And Spider-Man, before you go..." Peter paused and raised his eyebrow at Robin, though nothing could be seen behind the mask. "I'm sorry I couldn't save your Uncle Ben. I really am. I hope you can forgive me, Parker." Spider-Man's eyes widened behind the mask to a comical size, head shaking and eyes scrutinizing the concrete roof he was standing on. When he regained his senses, Robin had simply vanished into the night.

Did he mention how much he hated the other vigilante?

Many months passed in the same vein.

Peter found out about his Spidey-Senses one day when he predicted something big and "very very bad," trampling towards the city. Two minutes later, Rhino appeared. Mayhem and destruction ensured, as well as sardonic taunts courtesy of Robin and prominently punny puns courtesy of Spider-Man.

Robin called them unrepuntently cheesy.

Peter began to warm up to Robin, and got used to the fact that the vigilante knew everything about him. He meant everything. However, they only had their meetings in the blinding nightlights of NYC, not really getting to know _who this kid was_. Whenever the thought crossed his mind, Peter couldn't help but scoff. Kid. That was an alien ideal. Whoever Robin was, his childhood was taken away a long time ago.

It was March when the first meeting outside of patrol happened. Peter was still reeling from a battle with Green Goblin the last night, and reading the Daily Bugle and listening to J. Jonah Jameson denounce him while Harry nodded vigorously was definitely not helping matters. When he got to his locker, he noticed a piece of red and yellow paper (Robin had his own stylized notebook paper?), pinned to the inside of his locker with a miniature batarang. On it said, "Diner six blocks down from Midtown High. Tea is always at four. Civilian wear. And before you ask, I know everything."

Uh huh, okay, Robin wants to meet at Mara's Diner, tea at- what what? Peter never bargained for this when he joined the superhero business. Seriously, tea. Twilight Zone, definitely. Maybe it was time for him to check into a mental hospital? Delusions of grandeur? The greatest delusion was that he almost thought he was close to understanding what made Robin tick. It would be an impossible feat.

Nevertheless, he still went to the diner.

He arrived at quarter past four, hoping that Robin didn't bail on him. Sitting down at the table closest to the door, Peter turned around only to jump back when he saw a smiling face he seemed to recognize as the Boy Wonder himself. Ruffled, coal black hair, out of place sunglasses, pale skin, and an unmistakable, one of a kind smug smirk. While Peter swore lightly under his breath, Robin's face was adorned with a wolfish grin. "Parker."

"What do I call you here, Bird Boy? I can't exactly say you're Robin. And what was with the tea time?" Peter crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. From his reflection in a nearby coffeepot, Peter realized how much he looked like MJ when she wanted answers.

"Call me...Rob. And oh, about the tea. I've been living with tea time at 4 for the last 6 years of my life. Old habits die hard. Nothing of my childhood was really normal." Robin smiled at the impatient waitress, saying, "I'll have a cup of tea."

"Was, as in past-tense?" Peter turned and said to the waitress, who was chewing a wad of bubblegum with an air of rebelliousness and flipping her hair wildly, "I'll have what he's having. Whatever that is."

"Yes, past-tense," Robin hissed as the waitress walked away lazily. "I lived in Gotham. Is that enough of an explanation for you?"

Of course, Gotham's danger and darkness traveled even to New York, where every single person knew that you were never to go to Gotham, under any circumstances. "So why did you call me here? To have idle chatter? We've known each other for months...well, sorta, and just now you decide to go friendly neighborhood Robin on me?"

Robin smiled wistfully. Peter couldn't help but feel how _wrong_ it was. Because that wasn't a smile of a boy waiting for Christmas presents, it was a smile _of remembering something lost._ "It's my birthday. I'm turning 15. I wanted to celebrate surviving another year, this time with a friend. You seemed to be the only one I have now."

"I'm honored to be counted as a friend, truly. Do you find it a little odd that you're not celebrating being a year older, but instead celebrating not dying?"

"It's the norm in the business."

"Twisted child."

"I'm fifteen now. I'm no child."

"I'm older than you. Eighteen, shortstop."

"I'll dwarf you when the growth spurt comes. It's in the genes. We Robins are late bloomers."

"Heh, bloomers, like those pants?"

"Geek."

"What do you want for your birthday present, anyways?"

Robin smirked at that. "Nothing you can get me. Reporter's salary," he scoffed extravagantly.

"I take offence to that. But can we get to the point of this meeting? You _are_ Robin, you don't do anything for no reason. Well, except for scaring me to death every night on patrol. But you say that's for stealth detection training." Robin ran a hand through his hair, smiling weakly for a second before it faltered into a grimace.

"I wanted to tell someone. It's pretty lonely living alone in an abandoned warehouse-"

"You live in an abandoned warehouse?" The waitress came along, setting down the cups clumsily and stalking off, muttering about boyfriends and driver's licenses.

Robin continued as if uninterrupted, though pausing to sip some tea. Peter tried it and...he kind of liked it. Though he wouldn't admit it to Robin even on the pain of death. "-and I need someone to load this on. Peter Parker, I choose you!" Robin cackled at the end, spilling over some of his tea.

"I am so honored." It was half-sarcastic, half-true. After all, the Boy Wonder of Mystery finally decided to come clean with his secrets.

"I think introductions are in order. Hello, my name is Richard John Grayson, but you may better know me as Rick Grey."

"Wait, what? Rick? But where are the freckles, the red hair, the glasses?" Peter spilled his drink on the table in his surprise, not bothering to clean it up. Meanwhile, the waitress was chattering rapidly on her phone in a valley-girl accent, oblivious to everything.

"Trained by Batman. Master of disguise."

"Right...forget I even asked. You were the one who told me to do something about Uncle Ben?" Suddenly it all made sense. Robin knew everything about him because Robin knew him, even before he was Spider-Man. Robin was the one who told him to do something about it because Robin was doing so himself. And Rick arrived around the same time that the rumors began circulating...Peter never even suspected. The costume was very well done, but that explained the odd unnaturalness of Rick's look. It just wasn't him, literally.

"Yeah." Robin stared down at his drink.

"Why?"

"I know what it's like to lose family. And you have to do something about it, or else everything else consumes you. But this isn't all I'm here to say. I've outgrown Robin."

"But you told me a week ago that it's something your mom gave you! You said you cherish it!"

A few well-hidden tears slid down his face, while Robin scrubbed at them furiously. "It is something she gave me. But Batman, he took it away like it was nothing! He gave it to someone else! It was like I never existed, and he snatched away the last good memory I have of my parents! And he gave it to an average street kid who happened to be jacking the Batmobile's wheels. How am I supposed to go with that? It's tainted now, by my failure and Batman's obsession with the mission! And this is a year after he told me that kids weren't supposed to be in the hero game! And this kid's eleven!"

"Wait, Batman did what?" Over the last few months, Peter realized that though Robin cursed Batman, he still seemed to cling on to the Dark Knight, saying things like, "Batman taught me," or, "Batman always says," without even realizing it. This betrayal must have hurt more than firing Robin alone.

"Forget it. Robin's prancing around in Gotham now. So I'm not Robin anymore. I'm Nightwing. Remember that the first time we met? Superman once told me about a myth of Nightwing and Flamebird, the heroes of Krypton, the planet Superman is from-"

"Superman's an alien?" It seems there were much more things to heroes than what Robin told him.

"Yes he is. Nightwing and Flamebird were mythical heroes on Krypton. The best. I'm going to be Nightwing. Though...I can't do anything about Batman anymore. He's completely cut me off, even _replaced me_. I can't do anything to help that."

"Weren't you the one who told me to do something about Ben?" Peter winced internally at the name, but continued talking anyways. "Batman's replaced you, but aren't you going to do anything about that? Prove yourself! You're the best of the best. The first child hero! Batman doesn't know what he's missing. And now you're Nightwing, your own hero, and your own man, much better than a replacement ever can be. Show him that. By the way, nice to meet you Nightwing. You may not know who I am. I'm Peter Parker."

"Parker?"

"Yeah?"

"This looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

* * *

**Wow. That was...just wow. I can't believe I finished that. The hardest one had to be number 6, no matter how short it was. I guess I don't know that much about the X-Men, so I tried to find a way to show them, yet not _really _show them. **

**The end. **

**See you next time!**

**And Review/PM. Come on, it takes hardly a minute! Oh, and for the next collection, there is going to be one of Robin being actually twin brothers going in a cycle of being at the Team and being in Gotham. I'm actually dancing between using triplets and twins. Twins will be two characters as the different parts of the first Robin. Triplets will show the characteristics of the first three Robins (no Damian because only an al Ghul can raise a kid as scary as that one). **

**If you have a preference, Review/PM. Oh, and I'm still setting these stories up for adoption. **


	3. Twisted Pathways

**Warning: Number 9 is a female version of the 'Boy' Wonder' I can't write slash because I don't know how to do it without making myself and the writing feel incredibly awkward...so if anyone's a fan of that...sorry?**

* * *

**Twisted Pathways**

_Infinite dimensions of infinite roads, he wouldn't change his for the world. _

* * *

**8. The Phantom Brother**

_They're a part of each other that neither can deny. _

When Mary Grayson first discovered her pregnancy, she was expecting a child, a beautiful child with John's hair and her eyes. She wasn't expecting two identical boys to become a part of her small family.

Richard Paul and Robert John Grayson always shared a connection. They were two parts to a whole, something inseparable, souls that even the death of their entire family could not divide. When the other was hurt they could feel it, the emotions.

United they conquered, divided they fell.

Most people couldn't distinguish Dick Grayson from Robert Grayson, to do so was a feat that only Barbara, Bruce, Alfred, Selina, Wally, Roy, and Leslie were capable of. And Dick could see why. He and his brother both had that sharp nose, the solid shade of black hair, the inquisitive eyes, and the smug, sardonic smirk eased into the features so that it fit in as a piece of the intricate puzzle.

The last piece was a domino mask to cover the bright blue pupils.

It was a part of who Dick was as much as Robert and him were different branches of the same soul. The same character, the same voice, the same thought processes, the same personality, and the same kindness and moral compass drilled in from early on, before the two even met Bruce Wayne.

They were a part of each other, and a part of each of them was the hero.

The twins played doppelgangers, both of them slinking in the shadows of Gotham at night as Batman's errand boys. The thieves never realized there were two of them, not really. They never realized that the Robin they saw last winter was not the Robin they saw the night before.

It was a twist to the old story.

The criminals, even Riddler with his supposed omniscience, never seemed to take the leap of faith, the guess that there really was back-up in the shadows each time the Dynamic Duo were bound in another one of those rusted abandoned warehouses. They didn't think that there was another Robin undoing the knots binding Batman and Robin to a steel support column with a single stroke of a Batarang.

As long as they didn't find out, it was still some fun and lightness to when the rescues are done and when the Dynamic Duo, against all odds, survived the treacherous traps set by rather clueless villains.

They took turns slinking in the shadows and, over time, they both got very, _very _good at it.

Though none of them got as good as Alfred. No one in the household was as good as Alfred, that just didn't happen. Never. No way. Impossible. Unthinkable.

And it was protecting identity, because while everyone was looking for the one little Boy Wonder, no one even batted an eye at the twins. No one outside of the hero community knew, and only those who knew the identities of the Protectors of Gotham.

In turn, it meant that, for the Team, Robin was only one person.

Over time, really, Dick couldn't help but scoff at the Team internally every time a huge hint was dropped and only left there to gather dust. Dick could really see the differences between himself and his brother, because they had been together since the first day, no two other human beings had spent more time in their lives together.

And, yes, Dick did keep a record.

Dick cackled every time before he jumped into the fray. Robert quipped puns and defixed (without prefixes) words. Dick adored his Calculus textbook with all his heart. Robert clung to Paradise Lost possessively as he turned the pages. Dick could hack anything, anywhere. Robert had vast hacking ability, but much preferred to use the wireless connection and let his brother do the number crunching. Dick could analyze and write reports the level of a university first-year. Robert, however, was far, _far _better (bestseller-book-published-anonymously better).

Dick's least favorite villain was Two-Face, because no matter how long it was since those days, the scars still burned. Robert detested Scarecrow, after being experimented on for four days straight, his mind still held the vestiges of the fear.

Dick replaced the use of swears with the exclamation of four digit prime numbers. Robert preferred to take the vintage swears from the middle ages, or quote a historical figure. Dick's favorite circus act to do other than flying was fire-eating. Robert conquered the tightrope when they met the Wallenda's during an exhibition.

Dick loved Angel's Food. Robert was the other way around. Dick hated soda. Robert was attracted to anything with fizz.

Dick's favorite animal was the flying squirrel, since it defied the rule that land creatures couldn't soar. Robert's favorite was the elephant because it reminded him of the strength of their father, and later Bruce. And Zitka too.

Dick called him Alfie. Robert called him Freddie. Dick called him Bats. Robert called him Boss . Dick tugged his left ear when thinking. Robert rubbed the tip of his nose with his forefinger. Dick pushed his bangs back with eyes widened when tired. Robert would place his chin carefully on the palm of his hand and pull on his lower lip.

Dick loved science fictions, horror, realist novels, and mysteries. Robert devoured fantasy, historical fiction, folktales, and the classics.

Dick listened to old jazz records, Beatles, and Queen. Robert's list was comprised of an odd combination of pop and classical pieces. Dick watched one after another of landmark science fiction films and anything of the genre. Robert chose anything Quentin Tarantino or Guillermo del Toro, but detested Hollywood features for its 'lack of art'.

Dick had a soft spot for Barbara Gordon (and maybe _female_ redheads in general, because he _did not _have a soft spot for KF and Red Arrow, it was all lies). Robert fell head over heels for Zatanna Zatara (as long as she reciprocated his love for prefixes and suffixes).

Dick was the one in Bialya, battling Amazo, Mr. Twister, the Failsafe simulation, and on New Year's (needless to say he felt awkward when kissed by Zatanna). Robert was there on the Cadmus mission, the Injustice League, the Haly's Circus mission, recapturing Mount Justice from the Reds, protecting Serling Roquette, and finding Red Tornado.

But sometimes, Dick would find himself using 'aster', bringing Devil's Food to school just to eat it, reading Charles Dickens willingly, quipping a cheesy pun, listening to Bach, watching Pan's Labyrinth, and quoting Confucius.

Eventually it wasn't Dick does this and Robert does that, it was instead _they_ did this and _they_ did that. Together.

They're part of each other even if they never realized it early on.

Maybe that's why the Team hadn't noticed yet.

Since they became one.

* * *

When they were 14, Robert died.

Dick was sitting in the mountain after a mildly successful mission when he heard, waiting for Batman to arrive for debriefing. Usually, Batman was there before them, irritable and impatiently glaring at them to get done faster. Batman didn't even decide to tell Dick in person, even when what he really needed was a grounded touch to remind himself that the world wasn't over.

Instead he found a short, automatic, in-case-of-death message on his communicator, curt, simple, grim.

'Robert John Grayson. Time of death: 1:23 AM. Cause of death: Bullet to heart, Joker. Return to the Cave immediately.'

And Dick knew it was the truth, the horrible, unmistakable truth. They didn't make jokes like that in the hero business, they knew all too well that the tall tales spun could verily be reality as the time went on. Death was never a joke to them. Maybe it made it all the worse.

What would happen now? Where would his doppelganger be? Who will he look to whenever he needed help on a report, needed comfort after nightmares, needed a partner in crime, or needed a brother? Why did this happen? Why did the world take away the blood family left that he could still cling on to? What did they do to warrant this? Why wasn't he there to stop it? And why wasn't he taken too?

Brothers, they always told each other, brothers for now and the rest of eternity.

Then he screamed.

He threw the communicator down, stomped it into pieces, punched a dent in the wall, stabbed a batarang into the cave floor, and screamed. Feral. Agonizing. Terrified. Grief-stricken. An animal backed up to the corner who knew there was no way out and the cage was the reality for him now. An expression that yells _why? why? why? why me and why him? _He smashed his fist into the ground, hearing a crack as blood began to flow. As he saw the blood grow into a puddle on the cave floor, so much like when they fell, pooling, he curled up and he cried, because he wasn't there and he couldn't change anything.

The Team didn't know what to do.

They tried approaching him, but he flailed like a terrified animal. They saw tears on his face and if there was one thing they were sure of it was that Robin never cried in the entire time that they knew him. They didn't know what to do because they didn't know what was happening, and Batman wasn't even answering his communicator. They didn't know what happened, they didn't know why their calmest teammate had a full mental breakdown in front of them.

"He's dead." Saying it aloud shocked him, appalled him. It was his own voice, hollow, accepting, empty, and quiet, as if lacking the soul of it.

Wally was the first to move forward. Kaldur was passive, unsure of how to proceed for the first time in his life. Artemis was in shock, breakdowns didn't happen to the Boy Wonder. Raquel was hesitantly stepping closer. Superboy was angry, it was that primitive rage returning from his days just out of Cadmus. M'gann was horror-stricken, debilitating thoughts of blood, and death, and _falling. _

"Who, Dickie, who?" Wally carefully embraced his friend and whispered.

"My brother."

He would give everything to travel back and time and change what had already come to pass. But he couldn't, he could only cry as the pitying stares trailed him. He couldn't do anything.

It was like he collapsed inside.

* * *

Robin was shocked when Batman fired him. They were both hurting, even two months after the funeral, hurting from the fact that neither of them were able to stop Joker's bullet from penetrating the heart and killing his brother instantly. They were both hurting from the fact that they were _heroes__, _and _heroes _for the sole reason that no one would experience the pain again, and suddenly they were _back at square one_.

Robin kept on looking over his shoulder, expecting his twin to smile back, the Arkham-mad glint in his eye. Sometimes he could almost see Robert, feel his brother's hand on his shoulder, tugging his ear, he could almost hear a voice asking, "Dickie, aren't you feeling the aster?"

It was like what he read in the science textbooks. Even if someone was amputated of their hand, they could still imagine and feel phantom fingers tapping...once and again...one two three four...

Maybe that was what was happening to him. A part of him removed so carelessly, but that timeless impression is still there, part of mind and body.

A phantom brother still holding out a comforting hand.

He couldn't look into a mirror without breaking. He couldn't help but feel that momentary glimpse of hope when he saw the reflection of himself that was identical to his brother. But it couldn't be his brother staring back, when neither or them was ever this haggard, this tired, this forlorn and hopeless. He would stare, and stare, and stare into the mirror, before punching it, pulling his hand back, and heaving deep breaths as he bandaged his knuckles once again.

Alfred didn't need to know.

Dick pretended he didn't notice, but Alfred was in deep mourning. Instead of waking up to a cleaned and dusted manor, Dick could feel dust gathering in a fashion that was so uncharacteristic of the cold and empty Manor he grew to know as his home.

Bruce's response was brooding. Dick wished that he could somehow comfort his pseudo-father, but how could you comfort someone when you yourself was broken into pieces on the inside and so incomplete? 'Don't worry, I want to kill Joker too?'

Without Dick being the him that could only exist with his brother at his side, their relationship was in shambles. No one was the mediator, the one who rose like a phoenix in the darkness. Everyone suffered and no one knew how to comfort.

But he never imagined it would go this far.

As Dick packed his suitcase in the trunk of his motorcycle, he gave a final, longing glance towards the empty cavern before pushing his helmet on and driving out into the dark of the night. He couldn't stay there on charity, he could never. His future was waiting for him outside.

"He doesn't want a partner. He doesn't need a son."

* * *

Robin was apprehensive about joining a new team, but they stared at him so expectantly. He didn't want to work with people who couldn't even see who he really was. Ever since he left Gotham, Robin changed everything about himself. He gelled his hair up in a ridiculous fashion (even though he hated it because then looking into a mirror wouldn't be looking into the continence of the dead), spoke in growls to disguise his higher voice (and never cackled, never), rarely smiled or smirked (not since he doesn't wish he could, because it would be less like _him_), and even wore colored contacts (his brother's eyes gave him hope, he didn't want hope, didn't need hope, didn't deserve it).

Eventually, Robin decided it was too lonely on his own. He always flew better with the pack.

It was when Slade's dust controls him that he seriously began to consider a change of pace. Raven approached him stealthily from behind, feet not touching the ground, but Robin noticed nonetheless. Turning slowly, he stared at her for a full ten seconds before asking, "What do you want?"

"You should know. We've bonded in mind when I linked our thoughts," she began in her monotone, "And I want to know why you hide who you are."

"Raven," Robin said carefully, trying not to leak any emotion at all, "Do you know everything? Have you seen everything?"

"Including Robert. Including your family. Including Batman. Even Barbara Gordon." Raven smirked at the last one, unintentionally lightening the atmosphere as Robin blushed furiously.

"Then you should know...I don't want to look too much like...I _don't want to _be given that false hope every time I look into the mirror that he's coming home. I _don't _want to be a mockery of what we once were!" Robin began trembling at the thought, shaking as he suppressed each sob. "I _don't want a reminder _of when I failed as a hero and as a brother!"

"You couldn't have done anything. You aren't doing anything now. I've seen your nightmares, I understand, these fears are irrational! You couldn't have done _anything at all._"

"Exactly! I'm a hero to stop these things from happening, but in the end, I'm just a helpless little kid. I can't face that every day."

"Why don't you try _remembering_ him? Try having him _live in your memory._"

Sometimes, Robin felt his phantom brother was still with him, nudging him into action, or telling him to lend a helping hand. The phantom brother gave him emotion and _feeling,_ urging and _pleading _him to do the right thing. His phantom brother would laugh and cackle, he would tell him, "Come on, kiss Star already, I know you love her!"

So, that night, Robin _changed. _He would laugh and cackle, disappear before fights, quoting Plato. He joked and pranked. He became a splitting image of the Boy Wonder in the Team. Starfire welcomed the change with open arms and smiles. Cyborg shrugged and finally had someone to talk computer sequences with. Beast Boy was shocked before finding out that there was finally someone who would prank people with him. Raven smiled knowingly.

They never met this side before, they didn't know it before, but once they met it, they decided they liked it. The other Titans never met the Robin that first came to Jump, they decided it was natural, and Robin himself?

He never felt so _free. _

It was a part of him he left discarded when it became so scarred and so distorted. That connection he had never felt before was restored, his phantom brother became his brother once more. How could he have forsaken this part of him, his brother? Maybe that was why...as he found who Red-X was...he let him go...

And when he at last admitted that he was 'feeling the aster', his phantom brother _grinned_.

* * *

**9. Their Red Silk Threads**

_Boy meets girl, girl meets boy, it's the perfect love story. _

Looking back, he would say she is almost his first everything. First hero met outside of Central, first friend, first brother, first to trust him with secrets, and even first kiss. It was simply what their relationship is, a series of ambiguous interactions that no one could realize was a heartfelt, budding romance. One ignored for the sake of lifelong friendship yet somehow nostalgically maintained through trust and through fond recollection.

They're a walking, talking cliche, boy meets girl, girl meets boy. They become best friends without the slightest understanding that it was love at first sight.

Of course, in between are things much more sensational, if the media were ever to get their hands on it, it would be the adventure novel of the century.

In the end it is a story that continues writing itself, artistic, emerald green strokes of the vintage calligraphy pen marking well-worn, tea-stained pages, as each day unfolds and the sun rises into the scarlet and violet pastel of the sky once and again. They're forever, for eternity, as long as the forest-green ink in the bottle doesn't dry out, they're story will keep on writing. Every so often, one of them will carefully skim through the delicate pages nostalgically and smile.

And they have a history.

It started with the first meeting, when Kid Flash met the much more experienced 'Boy' Wonder, and he was impressed beyond belief, not knowing that in the future years the sentiment would still be the same, and that eventually nothing about Robin could surprise him anymore.

"Oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-you're-really-the-Boy-W onder-that-is-so-cool-and-so-awesome!"

"You're just lucky I can speak speedster."

A while later, Speedy, Robin, Aqualad, and himself decided to become blood brothers.

It was Robin who came up with the idea first, grinning madly, while the two boys didn't understand then the inside joke behind being blood 'brothers'. Robin begged and pleaded until their defenses were worn to shreds and they were wishing for leave from the merciless chattering.

The Boy Wonder began to lecture them about the history of becoming blood brothers, starting with the dark ages and moving on to modern day. Truth be told, Aqualad was the only person who was remotely interested. Otherwise, they were going along because Robin had a pout so pitiful that it shouldn't have been legal and the idea of actually becoming blood brothers with his only friends was quite...attracting.

They went through the ritual, with a solemn demeanor that he would later find amusing.

It's not every day there's a speedster, archer, Atlantian, and trapeze artist acting solemn. It was the experience of the lifetime.

When Kid Flash was 12 and Robin was 10, he discovered Robin's identity.

It was really innocent. Robin had fallen asleep, in uniform, polishing up her trigonometry practice sheets for mathetes, when Wally sped in, babbling about the pizza that Roy was ordering at that moment, before noticing his best friend quietly dozing in the corner of her makeshift room in Queen Mansion.

Robin had already written down her name.

"Richard Grayson?" Wally asked himself quietly, wondering why the name was so familiar and why he couldn't put a face to it. The little sound instantly woke up Robin, who wildly snatched the paper away, but the damage was already done.

"You read my name." It wasn't a question.

"I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I-didn't-mean-to-do -it!" Wally blurted out anxiously, anxiety taking over as he waited for the verdict.

He didn't expect Robin to smile mischievously, methodically take off an expensive wig and her stiff domino mask, shake her silky hair down, stick out a gloved hand, and deliver the words, "Hello Wally West, my name is Richard Mary Grayson, nice to meet you. I am the ward of Bruce Wayne, protege to the Dark Knight, and currently in 6th grade."

She had shoulder-length hair, long bangs pushed to the side, thick lashes, a playful grin, and stunningly bright blue eyes.

Her being a girl was not outright spoken, but heavily implied.

Wally, of course, being the perfectly logical person that he was, said the only things that seemed to be appropriate for the occasion.

"Dude, you're a billionaire and famous!", "Does this mean that you're my blood _sister _now?", and "This means I can come over to your house now, right?"

Apparently, Roy had known for weeks, since the contact between the two was so constant (being the wards of two of the richest men on the planet), even the bullheaded idiot would have figured it out. However, since Robin needed more people in field who knew about her situation, Batman found it appropriate to tell Speedy, after heavy coercion in the form of Agent A.

Richard Mary Grayson was named after her uncle and her mother. It was a promise and commitment her father and her uncle made when they were both in their early teens. They'd name their firstborn children after each other The fact that John Grayson's firstborn was a girl never seemed to deter the two.

When Wally asked Robin what to refer to her by, Robin replied, "My cousin John used to call me Dicky. It stuck."

February 14th. Wally was 14 and Robin was 12. Wally went to Gotham after school, speeding into the bushes before climbing out. The significance of the day had completely passed his mind.

He was just there to ask for some help on Algebra, no intentions.

But then she came walking up in a high skirt and conservative wear, hair perfectly tame and face perfectly flustered, and Wally knew something was going on. Meeting her at the bottom of the stairwell in the schoolyard, Wally asked, "What's with the Bruce-face?" Those words induced a half-exasperated half-amused smirk.

Robin ran a hand carelessly through her hair, tapping a foot impatiently. She more than often complained about the amount of work needed simply to keep hair clean. Whenever Wally asked why she didn't just cut her hair, she groaned and disclosed one word, "Alfred."

"Ugh, nothing much. Just some classmates at school aren't helping me feel the aster. They constantly mock me for not yet kissing a boy, and acting melodramatically shocked by my deviation from Bruce's...less than conservative reputation." An indicative grin. Wally wiggled his eyebrows. "Obviously, living under Alfred and security measures for my night-life prevents me from socking them in the jaw to make them shut up like I normally do when my lovely crowd gets insufferable with the monologues."

"Dude, I just make them puke," Wally shrugged casually. The two burst into carefree laughter. Dicky's on the edge of an eerie cackle that seemed to draw some attention to their chat.

"So, West, what's the deal? Do you want cookies again? No, then you would be waiting at the Manor. Do you want me to go on another trip that only I can make less heavy on the dis? Nope...Comm. Link's got nothing. New video game out? Wait, no, you would've just called me to Uncle Barry's..." Dicky seemed contemplative, tapping her fingers on her chin.

"Does visiting my best friend have to have an ulterior motive?" Wally took a defensive stance.

Just then, Barbara passed bye and waved at Wally, stopping, listening, and scowling. "Wally, I am Dicky's best friend. You are the best 'bro'." Air quotes at that. "Get the facts straight. Anyways, bye Dicky. Bye Redhead Number 2." Barbara left the two, walking to the Commissioner's car in a brisk pace, leaving Wally wondering...why was he Redhead Number _2__?_

"Aha! You want me to help with homework! But you don't use the communicator, go to the Manor, or call me to Barry's because you don't want Barry to know, or Bruce to know and therefore tell Barry!"

"What? No...not at all!"

Her calm stare turned into a glare of ice. "World's second greatest detective."

"Jeez!" Wally cried, "What's with the temper? You're acting like Roy."

Dicky sighed deeply, rubbing her temples and tapping her fingers nervously on the newly painted railing, sharp nails chipping the paint. Half of the school had already left, the stragglers were herds of constantly chattering and stereotypical 'popular' students, exchanging Valentines, some of the girls casting smug looks in Robin's direction. "Nothing, really. Just that those kids at school? Heavy on the dis. I can't get ritated," she exclaimed in a vexed, close to strained tone.

"Ritated?"

"You know? Replaceable is the opposite of irreplaceable, so ritated must be the opposite of irritated! No, I'm serious. Stop looking at me like that!" Robin held up her hands in a defensive manner. "If you think I'm acting crazy, take a look at what you do on a daily basis."

It was that time that the protective older brother inside him surfaced (though it was always much more potent in Roy). "Why the opposite of your usual overly-upbeat sarcasm?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Teasing and mocking me due to their underlying jealousy and frustration that a worthless little circus freak, trailer trash, gypsy scum charity case is the ward of the richest man in the world. Then those disturbing rumors about...Bruce adopting me with less than stellar intentions, including all forms of abuse that their wealthy imaginations can offer up. Now that they learn I never kissed a guy before, due to a twisted, _twisted_ social studies survey about personal affairs, they won't stop taunting me about it. And in a class of...well, fifteen year-old students except for me. Asking questions about very _very _personal and gag-worthy things. And adding on to that getting a painful visit from Uncle Jay, extra training, and no sleep. So yeah, I'm a _little bit vexed._"

At the end of the drawn out rant, Dicky began to dig her fingers into the railing, which was being grossly disfigured by her cutting nails that Catwoman would be proud of. She was breathing heavily, sending a Stygian glare to anyone looking her way.

Wally, on the other hand, was desperately trying to find a cure for the new-found grim temper. Roy and him had seen the type of temper on Robin before, and it did not in any way bode well for the people around her. Truth be told, Wally never kissed a girl either, and he thought that it was injustice for Robin to be mocked on such a trivial affair.

Struck with a genius idea that seemed so only at the time, Wally kissed her.

Instantaneously, the hawk-like girls gave a knee-jerk reaction towards the kiss. Whispering came in an avalanche (later on, Robin would tell him it was speculation towards how much money she paid him to kiss her), while Robin obtained a pensive look on her face.

Eventually, cracking, she sniggered. "Thanks for the solution, but really? Incest? Didn't know that's the way you roll. Now let's get that algebra done."

Wally's cheeks were as red as his hair.

When the Team first formed, Wally wondered whether or not Robin was going to reveal her secret. It was funny to watch them completely unaware, but still, they were her teammates!

Then again, there were many times when Wally was incredibly exasperated by his teammates. Since he knew the truth himself, he could clearly see the signs and clues that both him and Robin were giving to the Team. Incredibly obvious ones at that.

"I wish Agent A would stop getting on my case about my hair! It's so heavy on the dis! Why do I have to keep it clean? Can't I just cut it like I used to?" Robin complained while she flipped from her handstand, putting a hand on her wig to make sure it didn't fall out. She somersaulted on to the couch beside Wally, who was eating a bowl of chocolate-covered popcorn.

"Don't complain, Rob. A just wants you to be a prim and proper little lady," Wally snickered as he watched his blood brother sulk.

"Not a lady."

"Technicalities, technicalities. Let A hear you say that!"

"Why are you complaining, you little squirt?" Artemis growled as she read her class assignment. "You hardly have any hair!"

"Uh huh," Robin nodded cryptically, "Sure. Wigs and holograms don't exist."

At some times, Robin looked like she wanted to strangle Wally for being so obvious and loose with her secret ID, at others, though, Wally was the one who seemed to understand that taking a picture of one of their teammates who just so happened to have a Wayne Foundation Scholarship (who knew Batman had a sense of humor?) on her first day at Gotham Academy did no good for the protection of secret ID.

On the other hand, neither did Wally showing up to meet up with Dicky.

"Baywatch, what the heck are you doing at my school?" Artemis hissed, voice full of rage.

"This is your school?" Wally replied, confused that Batman would put identities at such a risk.

Dicky soon came walking by, Barbara beside her, before she waved at Wally. "Oh, hey Wall-man, you want me to help with algebra again? This is getting slightly old."

Barbara rolled her eyes. "Like Redhead Number 2's ever going to stop being an idiot and actually pay attention during class. Stop getting your hopes up, Dicky." Wally seethed. Somehow, the other redhead always seemed to get under his skin.

"Wait, you're that kid who took a picture of me on the first day of school! What's the deal with that? And how do you know Wally?" Artemis asked, hands on hips and glare deafening. Dicky didn't do so much as flinch, though she must have been used to Batman's glares by that time, and grew immune to any deadly stares. After all, the true king of glares was really Agent A, and Dicky lived with him.

"Oh, I was just being friendly to the new girl, and well," Dicky smirked pointedly towards Wally in a way that made him want to scream to Artemis that this was Robin, "I just have a thing for redheads."

"Thing for redheads?" Barbara muttered under her breath, "Just a thing? Mom, redhead. First friend, Raya, redhead. First crush, Raymond, redhead. Blood brother, Wally, redhead. More like a fetish. Need I elaborate?"

"Aw Babsy, you forgot yourself! Barbara Gordon, sarcastic underling, redhead."

"You are so dead."

It was when she was 14 and he was 16 that he realized how much he needed her.

A mission. He would say normal and routine, but there was never anything routine about their missions, the missions were always set with traps, mischances, misinterpretations, mistakes, and hurt. This time, they were scoping out warehouses reportedly empty, without any heat signatures seen. They were simply supposed to check what the building was housing, check the area for any potential sellers, and report back with the intel. It was in Gotham, but Batman was going to be off-world for two months. Apparently, 'supposed to' didn't seem to be in their vocabulary.

They really weren't expecting armor-piercing bullets and a vengeful Joker.

Then it was the next day, with Robin lying in a hospital bed, torso hidden under a heavy blanket and everything linked in a network of tubes. The day before, he sped into the mountain carrying her limp and bloody body, trying to get medical attention for her. They were lucky that they were able to get her to the mountain fast enough. He was so afraid that this time his super-speed was not going to be fast enough to save her.

Immediately after they got to the mountain, Martian Manhunter and Leslie Thompkins came to operate on her. The Team was thrown out as they didn't know her secret, and Wally was just waiting, and waiting, and _waiting, _imagining graveyards, cemeteries, and funerals, while his mind repeatedly said, "No, no, no, no, no!"

The operation progressed in a strained silence, interrupted by shouts of, "Clear!" that sent shivers down every team member's spines. By daybreak the operation was over, and alll they needed was for her to wake up.

She woke up three months later. Batman fired her from Robin. But before she left, Wally caught up to her.

"Where are you going to go now?" Wally asked, clinging on to her arm as she was to leave Wayne Manor on her motorcycle.

"Wherever the wind blows me. I trust you not to tell Batman anything. I'm going to Jump City, it's a stop from Bludhaven where I want to settle down. Somewhere I can make a difference." She placed her helmet on her head and gave a look back at the Manor. "I can't stay here anymore. Bruce doesn't want a partner, but he can't take that away from me. I don't stay anywhere on charity."

"What are you going to do?" He couldn't help but keep the pleading in his voice, the pleading that she stays where he could see her, that she stayed with him.

"I'm going to stop being Robin...I'm thinking Nightwing, and this time I'm an actual female vigilante. Do not tell anyone about this, okay? On our bond of brotherhood and trust? I have to go now, I have an hour to get out of Gotham."

Wally gulped, he had to tell her. This could be the last time he saw her in years. He blurted out clumsily, "Dicky-I-have-to-tell-you-something-I-think-I-migh t-be-in-love-with-you."

She looked shocked for a minute, before her face smoothed into grim lines. "I think I may be in love with you too..." she whispered tightly, almost inaudibly as she got on to her motorcycle. "But, I need to settle down. Find myself again, this time without all that trickery. Come to my base, wherever it may be, in exactly two years, and then we'll see. We'll see if we make it. Will you wait for me?"

They always had a way of saying the most things in the least number of words, no words were needed.

He was in Titans Tower exactly two years later, at the exact time (02:31PM) she uttered those words.

Wally didn't admit it , not even to himself, but the last two years seemed to revolve around that day. A countdown was ringing in his mind every day, every day and every mission was only about surviving so that the meeting would be closer. Even after seeing Artemis and then Linda, Wally didn't get the same spark. He wondered if the same was with Dicky, since he had word of her seeing Wildfire, Starfire's brother, Zachary Zatara, Inertia, and Jason Bard. Wally was overcome with this burning sense of panic and nervousness as he sped forward.

When he arrived, the door to the tower was open, she was expecting him.

"Didn't think you'd really come," she smirked as she leaned against the frame of the doorway. "How's the Team?"

"Oh-it's-pretty-cool-I-kinda-have-a-nephew-now-Imp ulse-he's-kinda-annoying-but-oh-no-he's-growing-on -me! You'd-like-him-since-he's-a-redhead-like-Aunt-Iris -and-now-the-Team-has-a-new-member-Blue-Beetle-who -is-a-little-crazy-and-Wonder-Girl-Cassandra-Sands mark-and-Zatanna-says-her-cousin-is-a-Titan-and-th ere-is-a-new-Robin-called-Jason-he's-impulsive-and -doesn't-think-before-acting-so-Black-Canary's-kin da-worried-" Wally was rambling as fast as he could, before he was cut off by a slap to the face.

"Get to the point, KF, I need to stop Ravager from killing Changeling," she sighed, exasperated, running a hand through her hair. Her beautiful hair, with a black and blue uniform that fit her form perfectly, and a mask that had to hide her hypnotizing blue eyes. Wally couldn't believe it had been two years. It felt more like a millenium.

"I missed you."

"We made it."

It's then when they both realize that they need each other, it was then their uncertain friendship became a full romance. It was then that they realized their future.

Together, always.

Their relationship doesn't rely on physical indulgences, it relies on the existence of the other part, the other half of a whole.

Yin and Yang, they've found the other, the invisible red silk thread.

A novel that's worn, a decrepit journal, a tome that continues writing for eternity. A cover that always says, "You and Me," and two characters thrust together by fate and destiny. Even in death, they will be strung together by the red silk, heart and soul, mind and body. And the novel keeps on writing, one word, one line, one page at a time. One hand on the calligraphy pen while the other rests on top, together guiding.

Together forever, when anything less would never be enough.

* * *

**10. Giving Me A Second Chance**

_The only thing he had against coming back was that everyone had grown up without him, they left him behind. _

Richard John Grayson.

The name of the first Robin who perished in battle against Darkseid would induce a different reaction from each of the four.

For Jason Todd, it was bitterness. The first Robin had the one thing he always wanted, Batman's approval. Even though it was way too pathetic to be jealous of a dead kid, Jason couldn't help it. He couldn't help burning with bitterness every time Batman said something along the lines of, "Dick would have done it better," or, "Dick would have done it faster."

Even when he didn't say anything, the words were drifting in the air, there, just not making it's presence known.

For Tim Drake, it was sadness. He was sad because he never got to meet the one he idolized throughout childhood, but more so because of the shadow that seemed to hang around the Manor because of the death. As much as he tried to constrain himself to being only an emotionless detective like Batman, Tim couldn't help but have emotions and opinions.

He couldn't help but be human. The existence of the first Robin made the human part painfully clear.

For Stephanie Brown, it was fascination. She was always the Robin that no one remembered, and she didn't really care, but she was drawn with a fascination towards this subject. She truly, genuinely wanted to know what was this that made the first Robin accepted, loved, and remembered. She wanted to try, maybe then Spoiler would be remembered.

And, truth be told, she was simply a Batman and Robin fan at heart.

For Damian Wayne, it was confusion. This was just some filthy circus scum that Father picked off from the streets, what right did he have to be Batman's right-hand man? It was disconcerting to realize that he was not picked because of his superior skills. Then why was he chosen? And why Richard Grayson thrust upon such a high pedestal?

It was one thing that the genius of of the Son of the Bat could not understand.

None of these emotions seemed to register when they found him shivering by his tombstone as they left from Bruce Wayne's funeral.

"Master Richard?"

When he woke up in the linen sheets of his untouched room in the Manor, he was aware that he had died, but his first question was, "Where's Bruce?"

This time even Jason, with all his bitterness and rage, glancing at the forlorn look on the other's face, didn't even have the heart to tell him. Didn't have the heart to tell him why they were at the cemetery in the first place. And they couldn't help but guiltily think it was some sick trick Rama Kushna was playing on their lives. The father for his son.

Quid quo pro.

* * *

Richard Grayson stared at Jason, haven't cried out all of his tears days ago, not seeing the person standing there stiffly, red helmet in hand. He felt horribly robbed. He was robbed of his life by Darkseid first, but that was an inevitable in the life. He was robbed of his father, twice. No one person should experience that, especially not twice. He was robbed of his world, the places and people he thought he knew. There was a sick symmetry, he died by Darkseid, and Batman died of Darkseid.

"You could do it, you know that, right?" Dick murmured, voice hollow, head bobbing in a rhythm that no one could hear. "You'd be the best for the job."

"Keep kidding yourself, Golden Boy. No one wants me to do the job, what credentials do I have other than pulling the rebellious teenager act?"

"You remind me of him."

"I don't look like him! It's the Demon Spawn! Unless your days six feet under scrambled your memories, I'm not related to the old man!" Jason knew that a newly resurrected needed sympathy, but he wasn't prepared to deal it out. He also came to the conclusion that after both he and Golden Boy's resurrections, death for Robins were only an ephemeral affair.

Those musings were only to distract himself from the real issue at hand. With Gotham going up in flames, who would become Batman?

"But you have the exact same passion and drive. The same energy and rage. Sometimes I'd know he didn't think I had enough of it, that I was weak and made a stupid mistake by getting a emotion other anger caught in the fire, and I didn't have the rage. I moved on. Bruce had too many regrets to move on. Same for you. That's what would make you a good Batman, though...not exactly the best person to socialize with." And when Dick looked up at his new, oldest brother, his eyes widened and full of tears.

"Will you do it?"

"Yes."

"Bruce would be proud. I know these things."

That night, Batman was spotted once again, and the legend was reborn.

* * *

Tim didn't know what to do, deciding to turn his attention towards fidgeting with his zipper in a manner highly frowned upon by Alfred, who would always nonetheless keep a stiff upper lip. Was there a manual for what to say when your childhood idol was restored from the dead in the same state he was in 15 years ago? It was so _much _to process at the same time, with Bruce's death looming over him (but Bruce didn't really die, Batman _doesn't die, Bruce doesn't die_).

Why was Tim in that room anyways? Oh right, to tell Dick what he had found in his research. Sighing heavily, Tim began, "We found out how it happened."

"Not Lazarus Pits, right?" Dick's voice was quiet, only slightly louder than the low hum of the heater. "I haven't felt any distinct bouts of insanity yet." The not very heartfelt attempt at humor fell upon deaf ears.

"No, it's a disturbance-"

"In the force, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in fear and were suddenly silenced. I fear something terrible has happened," Dick rattled off automatically, before blushing lightly. "Quoting contests with Wally..." he trailed off wistfully, sluggishly tapping fingers on the bed sheets.

"After Darkseid wreaking havoc on the dimensions, there was this disturbance in the balance and order of things. At least 10 people have turned up these past few days claiming to be someone dead."

"And you believe them?"

"Yeah, I guess. After Darkseid's invasion, thousands of souls just disappeared, wiped from existence. It's the universe trying to make up for the imbalance."

"What are you going to do after this?" Dick's question took him by surprise. Why was he asking that?

"What do you mean?"

"Jason is Batman now, that effectively takes you out of the picture of being Robin. Not because no one wants you, because you are incapable of working with Jason. Maybe if you tried, you would be capable of being an acquaintance, but you can't be partners, especially the Dynamic Duo. The dynamic was always that of student and teacher. Jason can't teach you anything, and you wouldn't want to learn." The voice was calculating, toneless, completely unlike the colorful descriptions the other members of the vigilante community gave the boy.

Tim hesitated. Would he tell? "I'm...please don't call me crazy...going to look for Bruce."

"Why? Can't let go? He's dead." The expression was perplexed, maybe a little bit furious.

"The beam Darkseid killed him with, it's supposed to warp time! Bruce can't be dead! But what about you?"

"I don't know what I can do."

"What do you want?"

"I want to go home," Dick said, bitterness and mocking leaking into his voice in droves, "But life doesn't exactly work like that, does it, Timmy?"

* * *

Stephanie only reappeared two weeks later. She felt unwelcome in the Manor, as usual, like she was an unwanted intruder. Every other person had the perfect right of being inside the towering mansion. Word was that Jason was the new Batman, record with the Outlaws being ignored for the sake of Gotham. Tim was adopted by Bruce, and had ample right to be there, and was making sure Jason had no guns, and wasn't killing. Damian was Bruce's biological _son_. And Richard Grayson, he was the first. _  
_

Stephanie was just a forgotten in-between.

And she couldn't help but recall that simmering fury, that dark madness she saw drown Tim's eyes when he found out that she faked her death to escape from the pandemonium. He wasn't going to forgive her any time soon.

Dick Grayson was sitting on a chair by the kitchen counter, reading what seemed to be a laptop, feet swinging back and forth. "Hi." Simple, curt, not giving her a clue.

"Why did you call me to come here?"

"I don't dwell on things," he began darkly, fingering the pages delicately, "Everyone else in this place does. I need someone who can get me up to date on the going ons in the vigilante community. Your the best option."

"Sure I am. Why didn't you give Oracle a call? She has the most updated information on everything."

"She already grew up." The words 'without me' were unspoken, but as clear as day.

"What are you reading?"

"Batcave's encrypted files. I need to get up to date on everything. The firewalls are easier to go through than I remember, though still much more difficult than the Pentagon. The Pentagon is a joke."

"Doesn't that tell you all about the people and events today?" Stephanie was once ordered to write a report for Batman's files on the weaknesses and strengths of Cluemaster, and told to view the other files to learn how to write them. The Batcave's files were _very thorough_. It was probably where Tim got his neurotic personality from.

"His reports are all the technical details," Dick scoffed, "Do you think he'll actually have information on how to interact with another? What words provoke? What are the emotional needs of each individual? How did the events passed have an impact on said person?" When Stephanie said nothing, he continued, "But of course well-being and emotion doesn't matter in the business, but it matters to a person!"

"And you decided to ask me?"

Dick smiled lightly, and put a small hand on her shoulder. "You may not be marked down in the files as a best tactician or best fighter, but I know something none of the others know."

Something that made her special? As if. She was just another ragtag child that Bruce took pity on. Disposable, fill in to keep the shoes warm while others were busy...

"You're the least emotionally constipated. The others are too anal."

Stephanie froze. She never expected that to be the words coming out of the other's mouth. She gaped for a second because it was simply far too candid, not a smidge sugarcoated, unlike all the euphemisms for replacement that everyone said to her. Suddenly, she began to register exactly what Dick was saying, before grinning a Cheshire Grin, eyes widening, and then giggling madly.

As she dramatically faked wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, she replied, "I think I kinda like that."

* * *

Of all the people to become Batman, why did the bats choose Jason Todd? It was as if they were foregoing any of the radical and amoral actions Red Hood took after his resurrection, completely ignoring and wiping the slate clean. What possessed them to take that action?

Wally West rushed to Wayne Manor, dragging Arsenal along with him, stopping at the front door momentarily before knocking. From the outside, they could hear scurrying steps on the other side, echoing through the empty Manor, before someone opened the door.

Stephanie Brown stood there for a second, before gasping. "You're here for Batman."

As Flash slowed down, he wondered aloud, "How could Red Hood be the best choice for being Batman? He'll be worse than Jean-Paul Valley!" The thought shook him to the bone, Azrael as Batman was a disaster, Batman was too vital to the vigilante community and Gotham to be left in the hands of a loose-cannon.

"Bats being idiots again," Roy snarled viciously.

Soon enough, Wally and Roy found themselves standing in front of Jason and Tim, who were both _defending _Jason being Batman. Jason would obviously defend himself, but Wally never thought that _Tim _would agree with the arrangement.

"Who gave the okay?"

"Who gives the right just to pass along that mantle?" Roy yelled, "This affects everything! Don't you get it? It isn't just Gotham! It's the world that needs a Bat!"

"Whaddya know?" Jason smiled sardonically, fingers slinking towards a utility belt, Tim watching him warily, "I'm a Bat! Objections? It isn't like you just said the world _needs_ one. Thought you were my teammate, _Arsenal._"

"Outlaws aren't the same thing as being _Batman_, Red Hood."

"Calm down," Tim interjected, playing the role of a peacekeeper when even Wally faltered, "We have it on the best authority for who should be Batman, and the two of us have been watching Jason's patrol, he hasn't been purposefully putting people in life-threatening positions, even criminals. He's following protocol, I-" Tim swallowed, "I think I trust him. Enough to do this, that is."

"Who is this great and mighty authority?" Roy bit out, hands on hips in what seemed like an overdramatic impersonation of the stereotypically enraged female.

At that moment, the sounds of the elevator from the Batcave sounded, and a voice sounded, "Tim, Jason, I think it's high time that the people aware of our identities find out about my existence, if we don't tell them fast enough, you know they're definitely going to blow a gasket the size of Vesuvius, but the question is when we-" A fourteen year old boy, short and lithe stood there in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, frozen in shock.

Wally and Roy said in unison, shocked, eyebrows furrowed, "Dick?"

"Not whelmed."

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Yes." Dick's voice trembled slightly, before regaining his usual vigor and articulate air. "Sooner better than later. Get it over with, per say."

"They've been briefed."

"Thanks Wally."

* * *

"Oh my god! Robin? How is this possible?"

"Hey Miss M. How've you been?"

"Fine, perfectly fine! You're not dead! It's been 15 years, oh my god..."

"Calm down, please."

"So...what have you guys been up to during the last 15 years?"

* * *

"Why didn't you tell us sooner? You've been here, _alive _for months! And you just shut us out!" Tigress yelled when she discovered the length of time that Robin had already been revived. "What the hell were you thinking? We were with you when it happened! We were your friends!"

"You said you were my friends. Not are, were." He paused. "I didn't want to tell you because...I've been left behind, don't you understand? A second chance at life is wonderful, one in a billion! But...you've all lived, grew up without me, I'm just a memory to you now. And you guys...I used to know you all, but I can't match you up, you know that? The human mind is capable of detecting continuity between things they remember, through finding some defining characteristics to recognize them by, but you've changed too much! You today are not perceived as the same as you 15 years ago!"

"But we _are _your friends!"

"I was left behind, you grew up. It's not your fault, it's not anyone's fault, but you being here reminds me of all the things I missed out on, and all the _people and experiences _I will never see. You are _not _the people I used to know."

Burning the old bridges was so much easier than trying to repair the damage of old age.

The foundations were worn to crisp. Only a single option left. Build new ones.

* * *

"Tt. Grayson, I demand that you allow me to participate in patrol. This is Father's legacy, it shall not be tarnished with the inadequacy that is Todd and the foolishness in which Drake wallows continuously," Damian scowled at the Robin who was training on the trapeze.

Robin hopped off with a renewed vigor in his step, beaming as he wiped the chalk off his fingertips. "Well then? What are you waiting for? Let's go. You can wear the extra Robin costume, Two-Face is going to love this."

* * *

"We're a good team."

"Tt. You fulfil the minimal requirements."

"Since I've been given this second chance, I can't help but feel I've missed out on too much. I can't help but feel...like I'm in another world. But guess what? Another life has its perks too. We would never be equals if not for this second chance. We complement each other."

"If there is the possibility of complementing your stupidity."

"You're beginning to not hate me!"

"Continue living with these delusions of grandeur."

"I know you love me, Dami!"

"I demand you desist!"

* * *

"Dick Grayson." Robin.

"Damian Wayne." Nightwing.

"Lian Harper." Speedy.

"Iris West." Impulse.

"Jai West." Kid Flash.

"Luke O'Brian." Offspring.

"Milagro Reyes." Green Lantern.

"Rose Wilson." Ravager.

"Zachary Zatara." Zatara.

Sometimes missing things, sometimes being left behind was worth it. After all, the things you would have missed, every time has its advantages and its beauties. He was fortunate to have a second chance, he got his when so many other people didn't.

It wasn't the places or the events that made the future worthwhile, it was the people, the souls that he wouldn't have touched if not for the twist of fate.

After all, he could've done much worse.

"What-should-we-call-the-team? Ohmygod-this-is-a-dream-come-true!"

"How about just a family?"

For just that once, everyone wholeheartedly agreed with Rose.

* * *

**11. It is a Mercy **

_The Talon knows there are ways to live far worse than death. _

It's when the enemy begins to put on the act of _swallowing fire _that Miss Martian begins to entertain the fact that they are going to die in the Cave.

The Talon is swift, graceful, moving fluidly in a series of seamless flips and lunges as if an acrobat performing to a phantom stage. Almost lulling her into a false sense of security, almost convincing her it's just a dance. The blank, owl-like white mask unnerves her, and she doesn't know how to penetrate his mind like she does the others. She figures she is weak and she doesn't know what to do.

Aqualad shouts commands out, and the Team follows them instantly and without question, yet it _isn't enough_. They had only been together for eight months when they attract the attention of the Court of Owls.

Doesn't mean they are ready for it.

M'gann loves attention, _craves _it, since it was the one thing she lacked living with her parents, the one thing she _needed_. Now she has it. From her Uncle J'onn, from the Team, and from Conner. She finds herself plunging into it, smoothing out wrinkles daintily and laughing.

Attention makes her _feel good._

This, however, is not the type of attention she wants.

He's got a hold on their legs and pulling them into Tartarus with him.

Frankly, she is surprised that the Talon hasn't slit their throats yet, though she feels that the time is drawing near. She can detect faint layers of restraint, faint, _faint _layers that screams, "Stop! Never again!"

The scream's voice is fighting a losing battle. M'gann wishes she can aid him, but it is all she can do to survive. The Talon is not being overcome by the voices, instead he appeases it just the smallest, and _toys _with them. The Talon is _having fun. _

Artemis turns to her, shouting, "Miss Martian, levitate to me the arrows I've shot! My quiver is almost out!" The Talon tilts his head when he hears, and cartwheels towards Artemis, knives out and ready for the slaughter. It's a split-second occurrence, when the Talon pauses in his tracks and stares at the archeress, who is running for cover underneath Zatanna's magic shield.

He falters, and the screams of his repressed mind burst into Miss Martian's ears. Maybe there was hope.

For then, Miss Martian levitates the stray arrows hastily through the glimmering violet shield and into Artemis' waiting hands, and telepathically pushes the Talon into a wall.

The killer is back, and she can feel his eyes ablaze without a single glance underneath the eerie, owl-like mask. It's the feeling of the gaze of a killer she has only experienced once before, on Mars when the war was truly tearing everything apart, and the soldiers negligent to who they kill. It's that one martian who looked to her with insanity in his eyes, and something of a smile, dry and cracked.

He's the reason she feels lucky martian tissue doesn't scar.

She came to the lush forests and towering metropolises of Earth so she doesn't have to live like that anymore. It's disillusioning and _scary_, as she has experienced near-death on Earth before, she has, yet this is breaks the looking-glass image that says, "Welcome to a better life." not at the hands of someone who seems a mere _child. _

Obviously it is hypocritical for her to downplay the skill of children.

Kid Flash picks her up bridal-style to set her down away from another fiery blast of fire. She wonders where the assassin could have learned how to do this, when it's something so strange, so _out of this normal world and more likely to belong in a circus _that she muses for a millisecond if he's a meta.

Then she realizes he comes from _Gotham_, and Gotham is known for having the most normal humans become something out of the world. Gotham's on another dimensional level, not quite reality and just a toe nudged in Hell.

She's been there once, she knows, and she won't return again.

Miss Martian tries to push harder into his mind, she needs to do this. She sees the cracks in the mirror and needs to break them apart, it's the only way they will survive. Everyone around them pauses as a battle of the wills clashes, both parties paralyzed.

She starts seeing something inside, it's full of colors, laughter, warmth and the smell of popcorn, cotton candy, and a mother's shampoo brand on a warm midsummer's eve. It's full of despair and someone who really is only a nine-year old child on the inside. It's full of emotion that streams outwards before dimming and dulling drastically.

It's something unlike anything she's ever seen in her life. All minds are full of energy, but this one is being so heavily repressed, as if someone trying to keep a kryptonian in a cage.

Everything _hurts. _

She tries to sink deeper into the mind, and the voices of her teammates blur. Rocket seems to be shouting, while Red Arrow grunted. It melded together into a stewing maelstrom of screams and frustration. She lets go and simply feels the _pure emotion._

To tell the truth, it has been a long time since she did that.

Martians flip through memories and experiences as a historian flips through the worn, dusty annals of a long-forgotten colony. Carefully, taking pleasure in the small details, and noticing everything. Yet instead of _reading _as a human does, they_ feel_everything in the pages. She doesn't do it with humans because when with humans it creates a bond so true and so strong...

They become part of each other.

Never is it M'gann's intention, it comes naturally. The emotion and passion was too enticing and fascinating, reeling her in, and she does not even realize she instantaneously makes a bond with a criminal, assassin, _killer. _

The moment she thinks the word 'killer', this mind she is touching rejects it. One softer, higher voice recoils in fear and horror, while another cackles madly and says in a monotone, "It is fun, isn't it?"

Images of white martians, blood, warfare, negligence, and hatred, _so much hatred _she could feel emanating from her peers, dance in front of her eyes mockingly, and she sees white starkly marring her vision in streaks and rays. Colors blur as if the aftereffect of too much time on a digital device, and she admits one fact with horror and resignation.

Of course, this bond is a two-way street. She can't believe she forgot.

Isn't she better than that?

These words bring back memories, ones not her own. It's from a dream, half-forgotten, repressed and thrown deep into the back of the implicit memory, behind memories of military style training-

A voice sneers, "Military-style? You are quite dense, martian. The Court of Owls is far superior to any known military."

-and disciplined stakeouts. The dream was created by his superego, and the words stir it up to the top of the hot chocolate.

Hot chocolate is another part of the memory.

It is after is first kill, he sleeps in his coffin, deep and peaceful, the dreams are tranquil, but guilt-inducing.

"Hello Son," a lithe, though rather short man says, ruffling his hair gently and wearing a smile that does not reach his blue eyes. He hands her (or is it him? She can not distinguish between her own experiences and that of the Talon) a cup of hot chocolate and nods pointedly at him to drink it.

"You need to stop, my little Robin, you're killing! That's against everything we taught you! You are our son, even if we die. We _know _you are better than this. Give yourself a chance. Aren't you better than this?" a thin woman with red hair murmurs to him, stroking his hair as he sips the cocoa lethargically. Even though it is delivered as a scolding, the tone seems comforting, reassuring. Human nature decrees that he is not ready to leave the nest. He is not ready to live without a mother and a father.

He is not ready, he can't accept it. He doesn't know what to do, so instead of being with a caring individual who will pick up the pieces and meticulously repair, he ends with an assassin organization where he invents his own brand of psychopath.

Words slip out without her realizing it. The Team stare at her as if she is mad.

Maybe since their minds are interwoven, she _is _mad, just like him.

"Little Robin."

It would be so meaningless to anyone else, but for that single, miniscule moment, it means the world to the both of them.

The Talon falters in horror, and tears down his mask. His eyes are wide and unseeing, dazed.

Defense mechanisms are scattered over a martian's unconscious mind and genetic structure. This is one of them. When being approached by an organism who seems dangerous, shift into the form of something that the organism would never think of harming.

She shifts into his (it's 'theirs' now, after the link and the bond tighter than the one they had with John) mother.

Shoulder-length, soft red hair, untangled through hours of care is worn in a ponytail so as to avoid interfering with her line of work. Bare feet show callused but alabaster-white toes. Fingers are long, firm, and strong. Her lips are rather thin, it's something she inherits from her father, but they are rosy red nonetheless. Her teeth are white, with her mother being a dentist, and the leotard she wears is tight on her seemingly delicate limbs. Her nose is slightly pointed, teeth slightly crooked, chin slightly flat, eyebrows slightly thick.

It doesn't matter, she looks perfect to them.

Talon approaches her, except this time it _isn't _Talon, it's a little robin _who lost his way to the nest_ and can't find his way back. Everyone is watching. Superboy tenses and steps forward, Kaldur holds up their waterbearers, Artemis notches her arrow, and Kid Flash gets in a starting position. _  
_

M'gann whispers in a voice that she realizes is so much like _her's, _"My little Robin, he's _only thirteen_." Ignoring the fact that he's turned centuries old in _her _absence.

He rushes forward to embrace her, she doesn't move, but she hears his superego say, "Kill me, kill me. I'm a disease, a plague, pure evil. Do your job as a hero. _Kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me._"

As she said before, it's a two-way street.

His instincts to kill briefly crossover.

She _density shifts_ her hand into his heart, it's the first time she does it, and he knows it too. His last words are, "Good job." and she realizes that his real voice is so _innocent._ No sarcasm can be detected except for the one her mind makes. She _really_ does well this time, going against the code of heroes..._killing. _

A part of her dies as well.

Everyone else stares at her in shock. They know the Talon was not making an attack. They used the think that M'gann would never sink to murder. But they are wrong and no one knows it better than M'gann herself.

She killed her brother, someone she was linked to...that is worse than murder.

On Mars, the criminal would be punished with the planet's equivalent of being drawn and quartered. During the Civil War, M'gann saw, and she sees the memories once again as she collapses on the floor.

She feels a burning pain in her heart, it beats erratically. It's a two-way street. It _hurts so much. _She morphs back to her own form and wishes she never listened to the pleading voice of the superego, the little Robin called so with his innocence and purity. She can't help but think this means that the id wins.

Except for Uncle J'onn, they don't understand how much it costed her to kill him. They keep on acting as if she's a mentally disturbed girl to be pitied, or a heartless monster who doesn't even lament for someone she kills, without remorse and guilt. But they _don't _understand, they aren't mourning the loss of a bonded soul, they are simply mourning the death of someone who they pitied.

M'gann is mourning herself _killing _someone she understood and loved.

Still loves, as much as any being can love itself.

Love doesn't stop because of death cutting it short.

But she decides not to mope because that is what he would have done. He thinks it is much kinder to world this way, he_ embraces _death now, and as they are one, she does too. Yet everyone mistakes it for being a psychopath and belonging in Arkham. Conner can't look at her. Wally is disgusted by her. Raquel and Kaldur pity her. Zatanna shuns her. Roy hates her. Artemis wonders if M'gann would make the same choice if she decided to join her father.

They're all _afraid of her. _They forget she can _hear their thoughts. _

Every day is another nervous breakdown she bottles up inside. No matter how hard she tries, she can't distinguish anymore if it's M'gann M'orzz or Richard Grayson screaming and banging on the prison of mentality.

On April first, she's overwhelmed with a sense of grief and depression, and wishes with all her heart that she could just be _whelmed, _even if she doesn't know what it means. When surfing cyberspace, she instantly began to decipher the weaknesses in the JLA database's programming. The elephant becomes her favorite animal, and she develops an affinity for the names Zitka and Raya.

She's hastily thrown off the Team for being unstable, Canary's attempts at reaching into her not working on an alien mind. Instead she feels the urge to leave, to live the life Robin never had.

She starts calling him Robin in her mind. Not Richard, not even Dick, and never Talon.

He would've become a hero.

He's still a part of her, he never truly dies because he's rooted himself in his mind. He becomes her superego and her id, with the ego that is her own true nature struggling to stop herself from killing, trying to listen to the advice of the little angel that is him before they _fell_. She can see him in her dreams, he comforts her, becomes her greatest friend, and soon she's _not just_ M'gann M'orzz anymore, she's also little Richard John Grayson, she's also someone who never got a second chance.

Before she leaves she attends his funeral even though her former teammates shoot her enraged looks. Why was she at the funeral of the one she murdered in cold blood? How could she? Even if he was a murderer himself...

She leaves a lotus flower at his grave, it means rebirth and second chances, both literal and figurative. And then she leaves because she has to do something for her momentary, ephemeral spiritual brother.

So Haly's Circus gets a new trapeze artist who looks suspiciously like Mary Grayson, who can even pull the quad, while Miss Martian travels the world protecting cities, in a red bullet-proof vest, canary cape, and black skirt.

She has a small idea of why she chooses the attire, but she prefers the benefit of the doubt.

Though the JLA is vigilant, she never kills again. Instead, her culprits are found knocked out, tied up, memories wiped, and with the same calling card, the one that makes them know she's speaking to them with a little bit of sarcasm, a little bit of snark, a little bit of sadness, and a little bit of, 'story of my life'.

_'There are fates far worse than death.'_

And slowly, as each of the Team grow the wiser, each of the Team realize she is right.

* * *

**12. Outsiders Together**

_They'd be their own heroes. _

"Nobody messes with Outsiders' business!" was the roar the members of Young Justice heard. A sixteen year-old wearing a pure red, skull-like helmet appeared behind the Team as they whirled in shock. He seemed to smirked at their alarm, as the Team was surrounded by a group of ragtag children and teenagers.

"Nobody expects a Spanish Inquisition! Am I the only person who's ever watched Monty Python? Hey Red Hood, who you got there? Let's sic 'em!" a twelve-year old purple-clad blonde hopped up and down in excitement and merriness. "We'll stick their heads on spikes and then throw them in the fire!"

_Don't you think, _Impulse thought through the mindlink, _that she's too happy about killing us?_

"That's against our code, Spoiler," said an exasperated twelve-year old in a mostly red costume who acted as if he was making the same point many times, "Robin won't be happy."

"I bet Arsenal would approve," Spoiler stuck her tongue out at the boy, "You know, Red Robin? Spoiler alert, you are a total killjoy!"

"Arsenal isn't our leader!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Red Hood, "Follow the Golden Boy."

As the Team watched in anticipation, the tennis match of words continued between their 'enemies', they were met with a scowling eight-year old in something of the same suit Red Robin was wearing, except with a hood and the colors of black and blue. "Tt. Who are these imbeciles? Where is that fool Gray-Robin? He should be here by now. The moron must have the Tamaranian hanging off him like a vulture again. Let's castrate these idiots."

Impulse paled drastically while Beast Boy backed away. Miss Martian furrowed her brows and frowned worriedly and Aqualad's long fingers tightened around his waterbearers. Wondergirl rolled her eyes, Batgirl and Bumblebee laughed, saying something about how cute it was. Blue Beetle muttered, "Hermano's a _little loco..._" Superboy raised an eyebrow. Guardian blanched while Lagoon boy scowled. Tigress just sneered, growling, "You, squirt? You think you can do anything to _us__?"_

"Crock, our abilities are far beyond the capabilities of your inept sister. My League of Shadows training is only reserved for the purest of bloodlines."

"You're a League of Shadows member?" Batgirl was instantly on guard. Suddenly, right behind her, came a chilling cackle. Every member of the Team immediately turned to face it.

"Come on," the fourteen-year old boy in a red tunic, canary and black cape, tights, and domino mask cocked his head to a side, amused, "Didn't scare you that much, did I? Really, the colorful costume is supposed to make me seem nicer so kids won't scream. They don't, but you look at me like I'm Joker! By the way, Nightwing used to be in the League of Shadows, but he's an Outsider now."

"Hey Goldie, you finally came," Red Hood drawled sarcastically as he spun a gun around on his leather-gloved forefinger, "What a pleasure for you to grace us with your presence."

"Was Hood harassing you at all?" Robin asked amiably, as he let himself into a handstand, "I know he can get annoying and never thinks before doing. Really, people, you want them to be whelmed, these people are the sidekicks of the JLA-"

"We're not sidekicks!"

"It seems not, then," an eighteen-year old man in a red costume, bow and arrow strapped to his back appeared, "I guess these jokers are _esteemed _members of the _Junior Justice League_ instead."

"Esteemed? Didn't even know you understand that word, arse-face," Red Hood sniggered.

"It's Arsenal!"

"Good for you...arse-face."

"Enough...these guys are the good people!" Robin rolled his eyes behind his mask, "They're not going to interrogate us! I thought we are the _good guys _too, we're not going to go around irritating them. Anyways, what Nightwing and Red Hood were trying to tell you in a not-so polite way is that this case is ours. We've been hunting the gang for months, dibs, you know? We don't need heroes. So if you please, tell Bats that I'll send a report to his server, and that it was way too easy to hack. Though...Red Robin probably would've been faster."

"That's right," Red Robin said shyly.

Spoiler grinned and waved, yelling, "Bye!"

Then the Outsiders were gone.

Aqualad groaned. _Let us return to the bio-ship, _he informed the rest of the Team as they watched the Outsiders swiftly defeat the gang. There was nothing to do left, and already the Outsiders left on whatever vehicle they came by.

Batman was going to kill him.

* * *

Robin, AKA Richard Grayson grinned as the active Outsiders returned to their base in a former League of Shadows stronghold. He took off his gauntlets and his mask, cackling before flopping himself on to his top bunk. It was always such an adrenaline rush and distraction to hunt and imprison the criminals. The feeling of doing something about the world's problems..."How much did you nick from the gang this time, Dick?" sixteen-year old Helena Bertinelli called from the 'girl side' of the bunker hopefully, "Can you get me that new gas pellet I told you about yesterday?"

"Hey!" eight-year old Colin Wilkes whined piteously from his lower bunk, "We're supposed to get me new knuckle-dusters! I broke them when we were filching from Penguin, remember?"

"Your efforts are futile, Wilkes. Do you not understand Grayson's partiality to the weaker sex?" Damian Wayne, at nine years, growled pointedly at Starfire, who was earnestly chatting with Red Hood.

"Wait, did someone just say _weaker _sex?" Rose Wilson, age nine, scanned the room to find the offender, her knives out and ready. "You! If I cut you into fifteen pieces and feed you to Titus, would you still call me the weaker sex?" Titus barked merrily in approval, while Damian shot him a look that spelt 'traitor'.

"Please do!" Tim Drake, twelve years, reared his head back and ran his fingers through his hair, "Demon spawn just had to make things a hundred times harder when fighting the thugs. You don't rile up the enemy! It'll only serve to make them more unpredictable and dangerous!"

"Does not," Damian muttered darkly, sharpening his dagger on the post of his middle bunk.

"Oh, this is just imma-" Colin began.

"Does too."

"Does not."

"Does too."

"Friend Timothy, friend Damian, please stop arguing!" Starfire, fifteen years old, interrupted, trying to placate both opposing parties, only to be completely ignored by Damian.

"Grayson," Damian demanded imperiously, pointing a finger at Dick, "Judge who is correct."

"Why me?" Robin groaned, "Roy, Helena, Kori, and Jay are all older! You guys make me do everything!"

"Well...Birdie," Roy Harper, eighteen years and the only official adult in the room, called from his corner top bunk, where no one could see his facial expression, "Technically you're older than all of us. You didn't age during the eight years in the Court of Owls, so you get seniority, choosing the bunks, and such. But you also get _fun _responsibility of solving Demon Spawn and Tim's little couple's spats."

"They're not couple's spats!" Damian and Tim yelled in unison. Both immediately blushed while Colin began giggling.

Stephanie Brown, age twelve, rolled her eyes. "Come on, Robbie, just do it already, right Cass?" Cassandra Cain, aged ten, only shrugged when asked. "Eh, well, you know. Cass doesn't talk much."

"Unlike you, Brown, who talks far too much."

"Don't insult Steph!"

Jason Todd, sixteen, chose then to speak, "Shut up! I want to get some sleep right now! So, Dickie-Bird, just tell Demon Spawn or Swan Queen he's right and then we can let one gloat and the other sulk."

"You know what?" Robin sighed as he stretched out his sore muscles on the bed, rubbing a bandage from a knife wound from the fight, "Let's talk about this in the morning. Mull over it. No one's feeling the aster at the moment, and it's already two in the morning. Even criminals have curfews. Lights out." He reached for the lamp by his bed.

"Tt. Grayson, you are such a mother hen."

"Lights out!"

And soon each and every one of them had fallen asleep, lost in the memories of the past and hopes for the future.

_Richard Grayson still remembered when he was the Talon in training. He struggled, he fought, but he wasn't strong enough to beat off the toxins and mind control agents injected into his bloodstream. He had killed so many in cold blood, even when his real self screamed in the guilt and remorse of committing such a foul sin. Murder. _

_He still remembered the pain and the turmoil, the punishments for failure, and the eight years of torture and agony that was his life in the Court of Owls. _

_The one thing he remembered the most was the rage, the rage at Tony Zucco for pushing his life halfway into the rivers of hell, the rage of the Court of Owls for plunging him fully in. _

_He didn't remember why, but then one day he was saved by his hero, really. Calvin Rose, the only Talon, with the exception of himself, to ever escape the grasp of the Court. _

_Calvin stealthily crawled towards him, shook him from his slumber, and said, "Talon, do you wish for a second chance?"_

_He was nine on to the streets was where he went, somewhere that the Court's talons were not sinking their nails into to find him, hiding in plain sight, somewhere safe...at least for him. His skills when he was a Talon gave him the ability to defend himself, and hide his petty thefts from the Bat. In two weeks, he met a fellow street rat, Jason Todd._

_"I'm Jason Todd."_

_"Robin."_

_"Kid, can you teach me to fight like that?"_

_They were brothers at first sight, on the streets where it was every child for himself. _

_It was a year later they met Roy Harper wandering in Gotham, high on heroin. _

_Roy introduced himself as, "The real Roy Harper." There was a bitterness in his voice that Jason and Dick were both familiar with at length. It was the bitterness of a person whose entire life was stolen from under his feet. Roy was spiralling into drug addiction after being rescued by his clone, completely disconnecting himself from the world. _

_They were the only ones who cared enough to get him to detox. _

_With the inclusion if their third member, the group decided they had to have a name, to promote of sense of team and unity._

_"Hey," Jason piped up, taking out a blood-red helmet, "I got the perfect name! We should be the Outlaws! And I could be the Red Hood!"_

_"Jay, let's just call ourselves the Outsiders. Outlaws sounds like we should be arrested." It was then that they started their business of organizing drug busts, and taking the money that was to be used in transition. With Arsenal's skills from training on the reserve, Red Hood's from living on the streets, and Robin from his extensive Talon tutelage, they were becoming notoriously hated in the criminal underground. _

_"Fun."_

_When he was ten, they met Tim Drake when hiding out beside an orphanage. Tim Drake was orphaned years before, sent back and forth between foster homes before an opening was available in a shabby orphanage running on some ten-years old government grant. Tim went with them the moment they offered it. _

_"I'm Robin, this is Arsenal, and this is Red Hood. Do you want to be an Outsider?"_

_They found Damian months later, in an abandoned League of Shadows facility on the outskirts of Bludhaven. It showed signs of a rush to escape, including _

_"Hi, who's this?" Robin asked. _

_Damian immediately whirled around, scowling, "Move and I'll kill you."_

_"Aw!" Robin front-flipped easily back as he avoided Damian's well-polished knife, "Aren't you a cute little kid! Let's see what this name tag says...Damian al Ghul? As a kid of Talia al Ghul? That's astrous! I'm gonna call you...Dami!"_

_"I will eviscerate you."_

_"Hmm...cute."_

_It wasn't the first time the Outsiders looked at Robin like he was crazy, and it would definitely not be the last. Maybe he did go stir-crazy after being locked in a coffin and forced to do the bidding of the Court of Owls. Or he just simply wasn't afraid of anything anymore. Whether or not he belonged in Arkham, he thought that if he was insane, he'd rather have fun being so. _

_Robin was eleven, Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown were banded together in Gotham when they met the Outsiders. Spoiler was operating against her father already. In her operations, she stumbled upon the fabled business of the Outsiders, soon finding herself and Black Bat the new members. _

_A year later Robin was taken by Slade. _

_It was a strenuous process, to convince such a young Rose Wilson that they were strong enough to escape. To persuade her that she wasn't destined to forever be a servant of her father, and to show her who truly cared about her, and how her father just wasn't one of them. _

_"Kryptonite is deadly radioactive, Slade was putting your very life at risk by placing the rock there! You have to believe me, Rose, I just want what's the best for you!"_

_"That's what my father says too..."_

_"Just trust me?"_

_Ravager was seen on the Gotham scene within two months._

_After that, came Starfire, crashing down into Bludhaven in a fury of smoke and sparks. Robin may or may not have had his first crush on her. Though hostile in a first impression, she was soon proven capable of worming her way into their hearts, through catastrophic attempts at creating edible food, through caring for them in the motherly way she knew how to while everyone else didn't. Eventually the only person who held any hostility for her was Damian. _

_Huntress joined them four months later, the only member of the Outsiders who decided to seek them out. _

_"So, you look at the patterns of our busts, and trace our bank accounts. You track us to our destinations, and then put tracking dots on us to follow us to our base near Bludhaven. And then you go through all that trouble, get my attention by killing some gang leaders, catch me and lock me up, just to ask if you could join us in the Outsiders," Robin muttered incredulously as he tried to marvel over the things he just acknowledged. Was the notoriety of their little makeshift family getting out so quickly? He raised his eyebrows and whistled. _

_"Pretty much...?" Though originally shy, Helena Bertinelli, Huntress, was much more timid up close. _

_"I am very impressed. Our systems need to have a reboot, I need to get Red Robin to do that when we get back to the base. So, Huntress, I guess you can work with us, only one problem, the killing has got to stop."_

_"I'll do anything!"_

_A year later, Damian found Colin on the streets. _

_Robin laughed, "I guess someone's finally taken up my tradition of picking up strays. Welcome to the Outsiders, Colin. What's your hero name, anyways?" Robin cocked his head to the side and waited in anticipation for the answer. _

_"Abuse."_

_"Isn't that a bit melodramatic?" _

_Colin shrugged carelessly, grinning as he fingered his brass knuckle dusters and sneaking a mischievously furtive glance at Damian, who was having a heated argument with Tim (again). "You're the one who let Damian call himself Nightwing."_

_"You are going to fit in so well!"_

Robin smiled as he turned over in his blankets, kicking them in the air. His dreams were not always of fond and heartfelt memories of popcorn, cotton candy, reformed assassins, a full stomach, and the new family he decided to surround himself with, sometimes they were of fears, of re-enactments of the scars that marred each of their bodies. Sometimes they were of falling, death, and enemies trying to take the life away from them in contempt and in hatred. And having these brothers and sisters in all but blood snatched away from him by the bloodless fingers of death.

In spite of all the dark nightmares that came with the life he chose, in spite of the difficulties and the hardships, the conflict and disaster, the struggle to continue on each day...

It was all worth it for the family.

* * *

**Awwww, the last one was so _happy and fun and unicorns and rainbows and llamas and chewbacca! _**

**By the way, Chewbacca isn't in my computer's dictionary. That should be illegal. **

**Review! **


	4. Nether Worlds

**AN: Why did they make the word dyslexia so hard to read? Number 13 is in an alternate Camp Half-Blood where the Giant's War never happens. The character is Lou Ellen, and the backstory with her and Ethan Nakamura is completely fictional. I wrote this first from Annabeth's perspective (but it was still Percabeth pairing), and they went out to recruit Richard Grayson, but it was an epic failure that none of you shall EVER mention again.**

**Seriously, it was complete s**t. **

**A while ago I wrote a story that I realized would have gone way better in the Netherlands collection than as a one-shot (Robbie Malone's Spectacularly Supernatural Swing). Too bad...**

**Thought bunny: If you want to buy coke, go to Miami. If you want to buy weed, go to Washington DC or something (I don't really know). Meth? Um...where is Breaking Bad set again? But there is only one place you can get this, and it's in the darkest alleys of Gotham: Hey kids, wanna buy some Aster?**

* * *

**Nether Worlds**

_He is down the rabbit hole, a world so full of wonder he is destined to find._

* * *

**13. Heroes Not of Flesh and Blood**

_Heroes are of spirit and soul, so though he'll never return to Camp Half-Blood, you can feel him, like magic._

You meet him when wandering on the borders of Camp Half-Blood months after the Titan War. He's in a tattered, in an unrecognizable uniform of some sort. The cape he wears must have been another color some time ago, but now is so stained by blood and dirt that it was only a rusted crimson.

His clothes were so drenched in blood and so tattered, his eyelids are half-lidded brilliant blue eyes peeking out, shockingly colorful in comparison to the dull, bloody cloth he's wearing. They're empty and unseeing, screaming of _anguish and fear and most of all defeat. _Broken in spirit and in soul, something only complete destruction can deal out, you recognize it as the same look given by your friends in the midst of the Titan War. You can see just from the eyes that he has been through a lot.

He has raven-black hair matted with dust and blood, pale lips in what resembles a mockery of a smile. His skin is pallid and ashen where crimson doesn't stain it, sickeningly morbid and macabre is the picture he makes.

And he can't be older than _fourteen _like yourself.

You think he must be dead, because no one can suffer that much, have that many scars, bruises, burns lacerations, and that much _red seeped out of the body _and still be breathing. Yet there is the responsibility to check, no matter how terrified you are of touching a mangled, tortured corpse, you check for a pulse. You are no coward. You do not shrink from challenge and difficulty, otherwise you would be rotting in Tartarus.

When it's there, you're silence is broken by a laugh in relief. He's _alive. _You can hear him, a strangled choke, a finger touching your hand, a rasping plead, "Help."A realization hits you, he's still _bleeding_, and is that a bullet wound?

Gods, he's dying!

You decide the best thing to do is to scream.

Chiron comes stampeding by, along with the Camp's golden couple, Annabeth and Percy. Annabeth gasps, "Gods!" while Percy curses in Ancient Greek. Chiron asks you how this boy is in the Camp grounds, but you urgently pointed towards the boy, whose head you have been cradling in your lap, fingers putting pressure on a bullet wound to the abdomen. Even though they are elders to you, they nonetheless still listen to you when you urgently command for, "Nectar and ambrosia!"

Annabeth brings the Food of the Gods, while you tilt his head back to allow some nectar to pass into his throat. He swallows, before gurgling out blood, streaking down from the corner of his lip. You think you can taste the vomit in your mouth, and the same reaction is on the faces of the three helping you.

An arrow is _imbedded in his stomach_.

"Stay awake," you plead, even though you don't know why you're doing it to a complete stranger, "We'll get you treatment." Clarisse and Chris come with a stretcher, carefully placing the boy on the gurney and lifting him up.

"Are you awake?" you clearly say as you gauge the boy's reaction. You test spells for healing you were studying months before, and beg your mother Hecate you can stop the waterfall of blood.

"Yeah..." the boy's voice is weak, before dissolving into coughs, blood splattering his already soaked uniform. He is freezing from the winter weather, but it slows his bleeding. The snow which he was lying on when you found him is now a light scarlet, chilling you to the bone.

He's still conscious, and even though that bodes well for him, you do not envy him.

"What injuries do you think you have?" Your voice is quiet too, feeling nauseous from the display of gore.

He replies, words broken, "Thr-three broken r-ribs...t-two crack-ked...b-broken femur...a-a-arrow in s-stomach...bullets...f-five entry w-wounds...f-four exits...d-dunno how m-many lacer-cerations...concuss'ion...kn-knife in leg...d-don't call JLA...p-please stop...B-bruce...s-stop..." Fresh splatters of blood stain your orange t-shirt, and you wonder who this Bruce is. The boy has to have divine blood if he is still capable of talking after that much damage.

His eyes slide shut, clouded with pain, shivering in the cold of the winter. Soon he stops moving.

The breaths grow erratic, and his heartbeat is so _weak._ You wonder why you _care _so much for a stranger. You wonder, but you see no answer until you think about the piercing blue eyes that stared back at you, dusted with barely concealed agony.

The eyes seem to reverberate in your mind. You follow Chiron to the Big House, where he'll be treated.

Who is this mysterious boy?

Questions remain unanswered for days on end, the Apollo Cabin call their father to heal as a favor, hoping he will not become another faceless demigod, buried in the backwoods. Apollo obliges willingly, but the boy does not wake up for a week, and when he does, he is delirious and feverish.

You keep by his bedside, Chiron appointing you to watch over him in case any improvement arrives.

Others in the Hecate Cabin tease you for what they see as you falling for the boy. They call it the Nightingale Effect. Aphrodite Cabin follow suit, thinking the elusive Lou Ellen has finally cracked, Eros notching and firing his golden arrow. You remind them that you are a counselor, and you can turn them into dandelions.

They stop talking, and you continue wiping the sweat of his forehead, reading spellbooks to pass the time, and applying Apollo Cabin's potions. Pushing your fiery red hair back, you sigh deeply more than once. You don't let your eyes linger on the scars.

When the nightmares and thrashing come, you can only wait and watch, wondering who Bruce, Babs, Wally, Megs, Arty, Kon, Kal, Alfie, and Roy are. You wonder who he is. You wonder why he never calls for a mother or father. You wonder who is waiting on the other side of the barrier from Camp Half-Blood to the rest of the world, who is waiting for him to wake as you are. You wonder if he'll wake up at all.

It is a full two weeks since you find him that he is lucid. The first thing he asks you, tilting a head to the side in an effort to disguise pain, is, "Who are you?"

You are ecstatic, calling over Chiron and Will Solace to check over him. This time, though, you are the one to tilt your head to the side, "I'm Lou Ellen, but who are _you_?"

The boy bites his lip as Will continues examining him, as if he is carefully analyzing the situation, trying to find whether or not he should tell. In the end, his hardened look softens, and his cerulean eyes gaze straight into your hazel ones. He feels his face for something, but you do not know what it is. "My name is Robin, just that," he carefully enunciates his words. Is that a street name? "Can you tell me where this is?"

"This is Camp Half-Blood," Will calls over his shoulder as he rummages the supply closets for a fresh roll of gauze, "I'm Will Solace, this is Chiron."

Chiron walks into full view, and Robin widens his eyes, before they shrinked into emotionless slits, focused. "Wally would never believe me...a freaking centaur! I knew Diana was telling the truth..." he murmurs quietly, you nearly don't catch it, but you have sharp ears, spell-casting requires it.

"I expect you want an explanation?" Chiron smiles gently and patiently, having dealt with many snarky new recruits in the past. A wry grin tugs at Robin's face, nodding eagerly.

"Do you know about the Greek Gods?" Will interjects, already plenty familiar with the routine of each new camper.

"Yeah, sure, I have an aunt who loves to tell me about Athena, Ares, and such," Robin's voice fades off. It seems as if he is recalling a painful memory. You do not interrogate him on your doubts. All demigods have painful enough pasts without being brought up by people thought to be their allies.

Wandering into memories of afternoons spent mock-fighting and hunting Ethan, you feel nostalgic, and wish that he never went to Kronos' side, never died every so tragically before his time. You know well enough that it will not happen, but you wish nonetheless.

All demigods are scarred from the Titan War, it already being months past, yet thoughts still lingering on that day.

You divulge, with some pleasure considering the remarkable expressions you see whenever the information is revealed, it quickly, "The Greek Gods are real. This is Camp Half-Blood, for the children of the Gods, half-bloods or demigods." Usually, you would ease the new camper into the idea, but he seems like he has an open mind. The assumption you make is correct, as his reaction proves.

"Wow, that's surprising. But...weirder things have happened."

"What things?"

Discomfort and doubt not overtly showing, but still there, he shrugs, "All my friends and family getting possessed and telling me in a spooky voice that I am a demon, a monster, a creature of destruction, and that I should not exist. Then someone setting them all on me and chasing me all the way to Long Island before they...I think they couldn't get through to the Camp. Truth can be stranger than fiction."

Forgetting who he is quoting, you notice Chiron's look of contemplation. Something is wrong. "Are your friends and family the ones who did this to you? Not monsters? The reason we have this camp is to train demigods to be heroes and to be capable of surviving monsters that hunt them for sport."

Stretching, he winces as he irritates his broken ribs. "I hate broken bones. But no, I'm sure they were possessed. Green light from their pupils and such. They wouldn't attack me otherwise...starro?"

"Starro?" you echo, rather confused.

"Huh? Oh...nothing," he trails off, gazing out the windows showing the strawberry fields somewhat wistfully.

"What about your parents?" Will suggests, still checking and prodding some of the bandages to make sure the wounds are no longer infected, "You have to be a demigod to be able to enter Camp Half-Blood grounds, that's why your family couldn't chase you in. Is your mother or your father the one who's missing?"

A sour look overcomes his emotionless mask, and he seems to sag in a deep sense of mourning. "I had them both, so maybe...I was born out of wedlock? An affair? A god or goddess pretending to be one of my parents? Whichever god or goddess is a biological parent must have wanted to hide me. I used to travel a lot...and both my parents were there. Not feeling any aster." Not interrupting his speculation, everyone notices the use of past tense in description of his parents.

No one points it out, though he seems painfully aware of it as well.

You spend the rest of the afternoon explaining the particulars of Camp Half-Blood, and he begs with you to be able to leave the bed, but you shake your head, exasperated.

By then, some campers hear that the patient is awake, and swarm in to catch of a glimpse of him.

There are murmurs from Aphrodite Cabin, something along the lines of, "If he wasn't so short, he'd be _hot_, like, have you seen his abs? And he has _totally _amazing eyes!" and you wonder if that is really what all the girls in the Aphrodite Cabin think of on a daily basis. You don't ask. You know the answer will be worse than what you expect.

You will never understand the Aphrodite Cabin.

Soon, he's allowed to leave the Big House, though you know that he has been sneaking out, you don't stop him. Everyone needs freedom. Demigods are not meant to live any part of life in confinement.

You go with him when he's finally let out of the infirmary, moved to Hermes Cabin for the time being, and together you go to the sparring grounds to watch the celebrated, perfectly-synced battles of Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase. They are the glory of Camp Half-Blood, so everyone gathers to awe at every parry, every thrust.

Shining dagger and gleaming sword are sparking in the sunlight, as a bead of sweat rolls down your forehead despite the fact that you are only watching.

There is something mesmerizing, you wonder if you will ever find a connection with someone, a connection so strong.

Turning your head to face Robin, he smiles back. With the help of Apollo Cabin's healing prodigies, his broken bones are naught but sore now, and you ask him a question that has been itching at you ever since he woke up, though, at his wicked grin, you feel a pang of apprehension. "Think you can beat me in a spar?"

"Bite me."

Rapt as they are in the fight, the people around you slowly notice the challenge. They will finally get to see what this new camper is made of. Percy and Annabeth nodd, backing off from the sparring grounds and holding arms out, gesturing at the field.

Robin smirked, "Can I get a weapon? I need something light."

A boy from Ares Cabin tossed him a thin blade. He twists it around in his fingertips, as you take your sword out of your sheath. Nodding in satisfaction, he tosses it in the air like a drachma, before planting it into the ground. A spark of a connection lights in your mind, something of which you have not felt since Ethan left Camp Half-Blood to join the other side. You wonder if the connection you feel in your mind is true, or only a delusion.

Beginning in unison, you and him both speak,"Three."

"Two."

"One."

He seems to be contemplating something, before smiling brightly. He thrusts the sword at you, and you block it perfectly in sync. His eyes gleam, and he predicts you, matching your every move. He allows his actions to be revealed to you as well, and you feel bound by an invisible string, pulling and pushing. Back and forth. Up and down. High and Low.

Robin flips backwards thrice, and a gasp comes from the crowd. He's on a handstand, you fill the space he has left, and he flips to his feet, before using you as a _springboard_, twisting, turning, flipping, and _flying _to a stand, as all the audience holds their breaths.

You're a little bit indignant at that, but you push him along, yourself cartwheeling to where he stands. There's a smirk on his face the size of Texas, and he's swaying his sword in one hand, while...the other one is the one he's standing on.

Knowing not why, you let out a burst of snorts.

This is when the fight really begins.

You charge at him, thrusting with all your energy, and he dodges easily, smiling impishly back at you. You grin playfully. The parries and thrusts are played back and forth like a tennis match, his eyes are glimmering, guiding, leading you into a perfectly synchronized dance. The viewers lounging are now spellbound by the fight that seamlessly makes the transition from spar to performance, while you find yourself moving along to a hidden music and rhythm you find inside yourself.

He twists and flips into a blur of color, you are mesmerized by him. Adrenaline courses through your veins, the blood pumping in your ears causing any outside sound to be barely recognized. Beads of sweat roll down your face as you pounce at him. He lets out a chilling cackle, climbs up a tree, before doing a perfectly executed tuck and roll down from the branches.

As the cling and clang of the shining blades echoed in the sunlit grounds of the camp, you _laugh. _A sincere, pure, innocent laugh. You wonder when sparring stopped being so _fun, _when it became a _monotonous bid for survival _that meant nothing without the people you are surviving for.

When did life become so empty?

How did this stranger bring the spark back?

Peaking in your energy, eyes glowing from the spirit and life invested into those simple moments, you are swinging about swiftly throughout the fight, until his stance shifts into something completely different. He's determined now, he's decided to stop playing the game, is he tired of the dance of which you can't get enough? In less than a second, the tip of his blunted but shining blade is pricking your neck. His eyebrows are raised in amusement, your's in bemusement. You only have eyes for each other.

"Point, Miss Magic?" he wonders aloud, your forehead almost touching his, while the audience is on the edge of their seats. Some girls from the Aphrodite Cabin are squealing by now, chattering non-stop about '_totally_ shipping them together', whatever that means.

You're panting, so's he. Each of your eyes are ablaze with elation and excitement, neither of you have ever felt like this before.

"Beginner's luck, Fly-Boy," you tease dismissively, even though you know that it is the exact opposite. The moves are practiced, precise, graceful. He's a contortionist, acrobat, aerialist. Magic.

It all happens so suddenly.

The both of you are panting, both smiling so wide that your faces are threatening to crack. The midday sun blurs everything, light shining down like a spotlight. The dance is over, but the excitement lingers, a rhythm, routine, reel that doesn't cease the moment the day is won, it continues swinging on like a broken metronome. There's nothing wrong with that.

A glowing scythe appears above his head. It takes a few seconds for anyone to react to it, yet it doesn't take any more time than that for someone to exclaim in a appalled tone, "A Son of Kronos!"

Your mind works as fast as possible, like clockwork with springs sprung loose, a broken machine, for two full seconds for it to realize, "Kronos...he killed Ethan." Before you can stop yourself, you sock him in face. He moves into a defensive stance, not even bothering to touch the bleeding wound, but your sight goes red at the droplet of blood, you are lunging at him, slamming your fists into anyplace exposed.

"All some stupid Plan B by Kronos!" a Hermes Cabin boy mutters darkly, "You're no demigod! You're a demi-titan! A travesty of nature!"

Lightning roars and the sun seems to disappear, you freeze. Three forms glimmer into existence, you all gasp as you realize that the forms are none other than Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, the Elder Gods. All the other Olympians follow suit.

Someone from the Hermes Cabin swears in Spanish.

"Robin, Son of Kronos. The Council has come to the decision of the immediate execution of the Son of Kronos," Zeus' voice is as commanding as you remember it to be.

Chiron canters by, seeming breathless. "Lord Zeus, with all due respect, are you saying that the council will thoughtlessly execute a child simply because of his heritage?"

Your anger stops. Execution? That is too harsh a crime for the act of existing..."You can't execute him for being born!" you yell.

Percy Jackson, the only person who seems to not be on the verge of throttling Robin, interjects without the respect in Chiron's voice, "If I remember right, aren't five of you Kronos' children? When does parentage ever matter?" Before a flustered Zeus can say anything, or before Poseidon can demand his son treats the Olympians with respect, something happens.

Chillingly, a change seems to pass over the camp grounds. Everyone feels the cold prick their skins. You shiver heavily, as a voice calls out. It's just that, a disembodied voice, barely a whisper above the din of the birds and animals.

"Chiron is my son too, demigods. I've chosen my heir well, haven't I? Someone who lived in a family of Talons, someone who has darkness. Don't trust the Gods, little robin, after all, they're the ones possessed your mentors, your Team. You'll spare him, you soft Olympians are too weak to do what is required. All the better for me." A wicked cackle soon follows, and the change disappears as quickly as it comes.

You still feel the darkness.

The Olympians are fully bickering now, and beginning to set the stage for Robin's execution, when he turns rigid. "STOP!"

Time freezes, perfectly still. Even the Olympians are powerless, stock still. Robin seems shocked at himself, but continues nevertheless. "Kronos is not my father. He was not the one I grew with, and not the one I accept."

He steadies himself with a deep breath, and you feel remorse for finding him guilty of his father's evil. What of your own father, who was already married to Sindella when he met your mother? Hecate drove Sindella away, and your half-sister can't forgive you.

"I expected the 'gods' to know. Do you think I will ever join evil? I thought I survived the Court of Owls and Deathstroke for a reason. I thought that would take away the doubt." He glares at the Olympians, stare stygian. He sneers coldly, "Imagine the Olympians haven't even figured out I'm Robin, the _Boy Wonder._"

You want to hit yourself. You live in Gotham too.

Athena is looking at the other Olympians, a glare that distinctly says 'I told you so'.

"If you," Robin turns and stares at Zeus, "Doubt me, ask Cassandra Sandsmark. She is your daughter, after all. Wonder why she isn't here. No matter, I'm a hero, I'm living as one, dying as one, and if anyone thinks different, they don't know me at all. To say I would betray civilization or all these people for chaos and destruction is saying Batman will break his code of not killing. Yes, I am dangerous. I can probably beat all of the demigods here to a pulp. You can all execute me if you want, but give me a chance to prove myself. Give me exactly one year, and see if I can repent for the sins of my father. If I can't, take me back to the Camp and chop off my head."

By the time anyone can move, he's already disappeared.

You will never see him again within the boundaries of Camp Half-Blood, but there are times when you can swear you see a mop of black hair and hear a cackle when in battle. The other campers don't exactly remember him, yet don't forget him either.

It's 365 days since he left, and you're half-sister introduces you to her ex-boyfriend. He's a tad familiar, rather lithe and short. He has a mop of black hair, stunningly blue eyes, and a shining smile. "Lou Ellen?" he asks. There's a smirk inside his voice that you think you've heard before, but maybe it's just your mind tricking you into deja vu. "You're Zee's sister?"

"Yes."

"Pleasure to meet you, I'm Richard Grayson, but please call me Dick."

He's gracious, witty, charming. All the things you love in Ethan and Robin, but you put those two names behind you, you don't tell Dick that. The past is the past. You are now this moment in time, a cafe on the outskirts of Gotham, sipping cappuccinos and eating a sugar-coated donut. Somewhere down the line you stopped comparing the past to present.

Somewhere down the line you've moved on. Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today you have a date.

It's like magic.

* * *

**14. Our Twisted Little Fantasies**

_You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything for it._

He was nine years old, standing on the middle of a dirt road, wondering if the walk all the way to Central City was really worth it. He had a compound fracture on his upper left arm, bruises and cuts covering his body. Uncle Barry was always so nice to him, but wasn't Dad nice too before he started drinking?

He wished that Mom would come back.

He collapsed on the road, hoping for someone to drive by, hoping for any type of saviour. He couldn't walk anymore, his ankle was sprained and he thought he had a concussion. It _hurt _so much and he just wanted it all to stop.

Someone will come, he thought.

"Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon," he recited from memory. It passed the time quickly, yet still no one came. He was losing hope that was normally so strong he could carry on day after day without Mom. Closing his eyes was frowned upon, he knew, he didn't know how, he remembered from something that when you were hurt you didn't close your eyes. You don't want to grow to be like Dad. You don't want to stay when you're so _tired._

Lids of his eyes were getting so _heavy _though, why couldn't he _just close them?_

"You don't want to be a quitter, do you?" The voice he heard was a tinkling, and in front of him _flew_ a boy, no more than seven years, wide smile on his face, beside him floating two...fairies with bird wings?

Emerald eyes blinked quickly to convince himself it wasn't a dream. "Who are you?"

"I'm Robin! And you're Wallace West." The boy was wearing a red tunic, black tights, and yellow cape. He even had a domino mask and a scabbard hanging from his belt. Robin did three flips in the air, floating down into a sideways sleeping position, three feet above the ground. "These are my fairies, Nightwing and Flamebird." The beaked fairies began pecking at Robin. "Stop, you little fiends!"

"How are you flying? Magic doesn't exist! And how do you know my name?" For some reason, he felt so lucid when he saw Robin, Nightwing, and Flamebird.

"All you need is faith, trust, and some pixie dust for flying. And I know your name because...I'm friends with the stars, the stars see everything. So Wally, do you want to go somewhere where you'll never grow up?" Robin took of his mask. There was a glint, mad, insane sparkling blue eyes, eyes drew him in.

"What's that?"

"Neverland." The word was spoke with such eagerness and fervor, contrasted by an enticing, arrogant smile. "Where there are no adults, no one who can hurt you. Where you can spend your days in the lagoons and your afternoons fighting pirates. Neverland has fairies and mermaids and flamingoes and wolves and...and you can fly! All you have to do, is leave with me right now, and never come back here."

"Can I stay there forever?" His eyes were glowing with anticipation

Robin cackled wickedly, "Forever and ever and ever."

* * *

_"Cause of death?"_

_"Blood loss. The boy was there on the road just bleeding for hours."_

_"Child abuse makes my blood curdle. How can a guy just beat a kid? How can they forgive themselves?"_

_"People change when they drink. My dad was drunk himself. He got his hell, liver cancer."_

_"Let's hope the kid gets his heaven."_

* * *

He was eleven years old, and his king found out about his father. Words were thrown carelessly around, until King Orin decided that he was too much of a risk, a son of Black Manta. It seemed his very existence was completely unforgivable. He was to be abandoned on a desert island, let him never be able to come back to Poseidonis.

And even as Garth and Tula begged for him, pleaded for him, he knew it was of no use. Adults, those grown, had already grown out of their conscience and sentimentality.

Facing adulthood, and becoming a heartless monster like the rest of them...

"Oh my," a high-pitched voice echoed through the empty island, coming from above, "Aren't you a fish out of water?" The giggles were eerily familiar, almost as if it was something out of a dream. He looks up to find a human child in the oddest attire staring down at him, flying _in the air. _"Oh...you don't look mighty concerted, do you, Kaldur? What's an Atlantean doing so far from home?"

"Who are you? How are you flying? Who told you my name?" He backs up against a rock, fear in his eyes. Fear of the unknown.

"I'm Robin. You're Kaldur because it suits you. I can fly, because, well..." An amused smirk flitted across Robin's face. "Don't you want to try it? The people who can't fly are only like that because they think flying is impossible, but you'd be surprised the things you can do with fairy dust."

Two little creatures, tiny humanoids with beaklike faces and feathers instead of hair, wingspans twice their own size, one of them a dark blue, and one of them a vivid combination of red and yellow. They tittered and whistled soothing melodies that were a balm to his dehydrated throat, making him forget about his inherent need to have water.

The 'fairies' decided to perch themselves on his squared shoulders, chirping continuously as they sprinkled dust on his skin. "Those, are fairies," Robin explained none too patiently, "Come on, Kal! You have the dust. All you need is faith and trust. Do you want to go to Neverland with me?"

"Neverland? I am afraid that I am unfamiliar with the term."

A passion seemed to enter Robin's eyes. "It's the greatest place there is! You will never grow up." Robin's voice was then comparable to that of a Siren's. "You will live, be free, be a child for the rest of your life. You'll never grow into a heartless monster."

He was eleven, and he flew away from the reality where he had nothing left behind that he could throw away anyways.

* * *

_"Garth, Garth!"_

_"What is it, Tula? Why are you crying?"_

_"They've found Kaldur! He didn't leave the island. He never left the island, he just stayed and stayed and stayed!"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"He never went back into the sea for water. He just _quit_. He's...gone."_

* * *

He was eight years old, and he was let out of his containment chamber to feel, to experience the world for the first time n his life. The Genomorphs didn't tell him how much it would burn to be exposed to the _air. _The Genomorphs wouldn't let him out, why the change of heart now?

"You know, you aren't gonna just blow a hole into a wall by staring at it, no matter how angry you look," a voice came from above, cocky and sure of himself.

"Who is it?"

"Aw, Project Kr, I thought we had something! Don't you remember your old buddy?"

"I have not been of acquaintance with you. As a project of Cadmus, I do not 'have' anything." He glared upwards to find a boy in clothes the Genomorphs did not tell him was considered normal. He was flying in circles around the clone.

"Well, I guess Cadmus didn't teach you about jokes. I'm Robin, I'm the one who let you out of that stupid containment pod. Don't you find it boring in there? You don't get to do anything."

"I am Superboy, clone of Superman, made to replace him if he perishes or turns away from the light. I do not need to do anything except prepare for my destiny," he replied to the mystifying boy in front of him.

"Even if you can't fly?"

"I can't fly? But Superman can fly. I'm supposed to replace Superman!" Seeing the triumphant look on Robin's face, he felt himself grow angry, trying to chase down the mocking boy. Robin only cackles wickedly in response, wiping a fake tear from his eyes in dramatized amusement.

"Come on, Supey, don't be a meanie. How's about I show you how to fly, and you come with me to Neverland? You'll be able to fly free, no one telling you what to do. You can be whoever you want to be, and no one will have any say in it! You can get out of this stupid lab and go fly around in the asterous Neverland! You'll never grow up to be some crabby old Superman!"

"You will teach me how to...fly?"

Robin's grin showed his canine teeth. "Definitely. Now let's blow this popsicle stand to the ground."

* * *

_"In other news, firefighters yesterday were fighting to save Cadmus Labs from engulfing flames, but failed to preserve the building. There are no reports of survivors from the fire. It seems as if every inch of the facility was burned to ashes, including several previously unknown underground levels."_

_"What do officials say the fire was caused by, Jim?"_

_"Well, Sarah, the spontaneous burning is leaving even specialists mystified, though foul play is suspected. More on that story at six o' clock."_

* * *

She was twenty-four martian years old, shivering and trembling in the red fields, hoping that none of the green martian soldiers would find her. All her family forgot her, left her to starve and to be bludgeoned by the approaching and didn't even care to wait for her footfalls as they hastily evacuated their homes for fear of the violence of the Civil War.

She wanted to be on Earth, from the Earth television cassettes she used to have. She wanted to be somewhere where she could be thought as _beautiful_, not hunted and killed for the sake of peace in emptiness.

"I can take you away, if you want to."

Swerving at the unfamiliar sound of thoughts being articulated, she was met with a... "Are you a human?" Her unpractised mouth stumbled over the words. He cocked his head to a side.

"You're a quick one. You'd be the mother of our group. Do you want to go to somewhere like Earth, only so much better?"

She's confused. "There's somewhere better than Earth?"

"Infinitely. It's called Neverland."

Anything to be away from the death and destruction, anything to be away from the chaos and pandemonium, she thought resolutely. Somewhere better than Earth? She jumped at the opportunity. Of course there was a price. "What do I have to do for you to take me?"

"All you have to do is come with me. And never turn back."

It didn't seem like much. Was there anything worth living on Mars for anymore? "Take me with you."

* * *

_"Another dead White Martian. These monsters are dropping like flies."_

_"J'akk, this one was only a child. A child not responsible for the sins of their parents, starved to death because of a civil war. We are the superior martians, we should act as such."_

_"This changes nothing."_

_"This changes everything."_

* * *

She's nine years old and her sister had just left her to the dogs, that is to say, her father. She was practicing her bow and arrow technique, if only to please her father and to stop him from beating on her and telling her how much better Jade would have been. Something was knocking on the window.

Her father wouldn't have opened it.

"But I am never going to grow up like my father," she quietly vowed.

Outside the window was a...floating boy? He was wearing the craziest clothing, and had pasted on his face a maddening smirk. "I hear that you don't want to end up like your pop. I hear that you don't want to be controlled by him. How's about I offer you something, Artemis?"

"How do you know my name?"

"No matter who it is, it's always the same question," he muttered, rolling his eyes, "How do you know who I am? How did you find me? Why are you here? How are you flying? Doesn't anyone ever come to the conclusion that they're either dreaming or that I just used the yellow pages?"

"Did you?" She placed her hands on her hips irritably, while the boy shrugged.

"Nah, but it would be nice if someone tried to guess."

"Tell me how you know my name, or I will eviscerate you."

"Ouch, Arty. And you say you don't want to be like daddy dearest? It seems like you're practically the carbon copy!"

She took out her arrow, holding the tip to the boy's neck. "Tell me."

The boy chuckled heartily, while two bird-like fairies, one indigo, one red, laughed and chirped. "I'm in your dreams. I can see your desires. You see, I come from this nice little place called Neverland, where you don't grow up at all, and no one gets to tell you what to do. Think about it, Arty! It'd be your own special way of telling your old man to go to hell!"

She pursed her lips. Mom was dead, she didn't survive the surgery, not that the doctors really cared to try once they realized they were working with a criminal. Dad was still using his sick combination of tough love and constant comparison of her and Jade. Jade? Jade left her. Jade _abandoned _her. She wasn't going to be staying home like a good little girl, waiting for big sister's homecoming.

In this family, it was every girl for herself.

Lips curling into a rebellious snarl, she reached out a hand to shake with the boy casually floating outside of her window. Even if he was a liar, she could beat him to a pulp. If he wasn't, then all the better. "Well pipsqueak? Get me the hell outta here."

He tilted his head forward, an eyebrow raised and smirking. "Of course, my lady."

* * *

_"Holy s**t!"_

_"What is it, rookie?"_

_"It's a girl...it looks like she jumped, but the body's been dragged to the alley."_

_"Forget about, kid, it's Gotham. Hell's probably a promotion for the girl."_

* * *

He was seven years old when his world collapsed around him. First they _fell on the ground and crumpled_ into _broken_ glass, shattering the ground with _blood and gore_. Then he was taken away from his family, his _real _family, not those plastic-faced therapists and social workers who smiled and said they were going to be his friends. Being sent to Juvie was only cleaning up the debris.

He was another one of Gotham's problem children now.

Locked in a individual cell, he sighed. What had he done this time? Oh yes, broke an older boy's nose. His hand was still covered with the congealed blood. He smiled, letting out a cackle that felt so _natural._

It didn't sound crazy to himself in the least, he was used to at by then.

By the barred windows, something seemed to materialize. Scrutinizing the sight, he saw two small figures, human-like in build, the size of sparrows. "Faeries," he gasped, scrambling from his wooden bed to see the two forms glimmering under the moonlit night.

The Faeries were petite things, feathered scalps, large wingspans on scale, and a curling beak. One was a combination of colors from black, blue, and to purple. The smaller one was a mosaic of red, orange, and yellow, the two Faeries contrasting each other like black and white.

The Faeries sang harmoniously, and he was taken by the melody.

The songs became _words _for him.

And when Nightwing and Flamebird finished regaling him in tales of a land where he'd be the only child there, where he'd never have to grow up, where he could live out the rest of his eternity alongside elves, pixies, dwarves, mermaids, pirates, and the Fay, he didn't have to say anything for the Faeries to understand.

"Richard John Grayson dies now," he whispered in the nighttime lull, "Robin is born."

He would never grow up...but never was an _awfully _long time...

* * *

_"Hello Mr. Wayne, I heard you are interested in one of the children here?"_

_"Oh, yes, I was wondering about the circus acrobat, Richard Grayson?"_

_"...I'm sorry to inform you, sir, but last night the child hung himself in his cell."_

* * *

Robin is youth. Robin is joy. Robin is a little bird that has broken out of the egg. Time is chasing after all of us, Time never catches up to Robin, but Robin never runs. He stays in his Neverland, the twisted reality that is the home of the Lost Children. They teeter between their fantasy land and the other side.

On the other side waits, always waits, the familiar face of Death.

"To die would be an awfully big adventure."

* * *

**15. Wands, Towers, and Starlight**

_Something about the stars made them come together. _

When they first came to his spot in the Astronomy Tower, he was irritated beyond belief. It was another day of trying to escape from the attention of others and the overbearingly strict nature of Bruce. Over time, however, he had come to enjoy their presence, as they idly talked and sympathized with each other, even when they hardly knew the others. Nothing was spoken about the pasts explicitly, though the pieces were easy to garner delicately into a picture as fragile as broken glass.

Robin hid his eyes there, none of them knew him by any other name, but wasn't the rose by any other name just as sweet? The difference though, was that Robin had these friends in the midnight marauders looking into the skies through the Watchtower (as they named it). Richard Grayson was alone.

Eventually, they all shared their names to the rest of the group, brought together by the light of the stars and fate. More fate than anything else. Robin kept his secret, his was the road of heavy loads and bitterness, he didn't need to take the others with him.

(it's my burden, and mine alone)

Still, he knew it was unfair that they knew nothing about him, meanwhile he knew everything about them.

He had just picked the locks on the doors into the Astronomy Tower, when the first of them arrived.

(too early, why couldn't he have come later? I wasn't _ready _yet)

Kaldur Ahm, a tall Ravenclaw seventh year with a constantly calm demeanor, walked in gracefully, taking the seat directly beside Robin, nodding in acknowledgement of the other's presence. In his hands he held a thick book, which Robin found months ago to be about observing the movement of the stars.

The boy, no _man_, was endeavoring to become a soldier in his King's army. The King of Poseidonis, a large merman kingdom constantly besieged by war and death, Orin, was more than a king to Kaldur. If there was one word to describe Kaldur, it would be faithful, so would he be faithful towards the man who spared him when he was the enemy's son and raised him to send him to the greatest place a mind could be nurtured?

(will his loyalty be the death of him?)

"Hi Kal, the stars seem to be feeling the aster tonight..." Robin waved weakly, hiding his disgruntlement at the events which had occurred on the day five years ago, instead focusing on the five stars he named Mary, John, Karla, Rick, and Johnny.

(the others don't know why)

"Greetings, Robin. The stars are particularly bright tonight. Any reason?" Kaldur's eyes were once again searching Robin's mask for any clues.

"I-I...I guess I don't know...there's nothing _special _about this damned day!" The words burst out before he stopped them in shock. The mask had never come off before in his life.

(weak, weak, weak, always too weak)

Artemis Crock was the next to enter the room, drawing away the tension from Robin's outburst. She was a fifth year Slytherin, in the same house as Robin himself, though she didn't know it. Her's was a story of escaping the ties of family, both her father and sister being notoriously cruel Death eaters, part of the gang involved in the infamous torturing of the Longbottoms. Her mother, Paula Crock, was retired from villainy. And of course, she came as the guise of Oliver Queen's, owner of Queen's Magic Estates, niece.

She was the hardest to crack, but eventually she gave in all the answers to the Astronomy Tower Club, as they had mockingly nicknamed themselves.

All three could sense the darkness in the air, there were some nights when the gently caressing sound of silence was the best of the world's options. Words did not need to be spoke, only emotions felt.

Megan Morse was a muggle-born, sixth year in Hufflepuff. Sadly, her parents were negligent, though she was whisked off to a magic by her wizarding uncle, John Jones. It was the fairy tale of all fairy tales, accompanied with her own prince, Conner Kent.

(heh, fairy tales. why couldn't one happen for me? the heroes in fairy tales could always raise the dead)

Miss Morse, as almost everyone referred to her as, was hopelessly in love with the Hufflepuff fifth year Conner Kent. Conner Kent was the average brooding hero. He was raised by a militaristic wizard training program called Cadmus, as he was the result of the famous wizard Clark Kent's experiment gone horribly twisted, creating what others would call a _clone._ At the Tower, that was never his name.

They were the one who gave him his name in the first place. Everyone else just called him 'clone'.

(rose by any other name...names mean everything)

Wally Weasley came in last, darting down to a seat on the right of Robin, and chattering off about quantum physics, once again attempting to rationalize magic. Wally came from a family of pure-blood Gryffindors, and he filled the shoes neatly, without struggle. He was in his fifth year, excelling in Transfiguration, while constantly dismissing Charms as charlatan's magic. Needless to say, he was not in Professor Flitwick's good graces.

Never though, did he have the greatest of childhoods.

(great childhood? who made up that myth?)

His original name was Wally West, born of another pure-blood family. But this one was rigidly strict with unwavering anti-muggle sentiments. Abusive and addicted to firewhisky, Rudolph West was soon thrown into Azkaban for participating in Death Eater activities, and Wally was left with his Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry. At Hogwarts he flourished, playing keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, riding the broom known as 'spitfire'. Wally was the only one who knew his real name.

And all of them had first met each other sneaking into the Watchtower. All of them.

(it isn't where we came from. it's where we are now, and that we are there at all)

Robin himself... Richard John Grayson, muggle-born, third-year Slytherin whose legal guardian owned half the school. It was how he was viewed, at the very least. Dick was born and raised in the most caring family possible, with it all being ripped away from him when he was 11 by a hate crime against muggles, starting with snap, a fall to the ground, the crunching of bones, and a horrified, terrified scream.

Bruce Wayne picked up the pieces and created a crooked sculpture out of it, shipping him to Hogwarts and putting the closest eye possible on him.

Whenever Wally or anyone remarked that he should have been sorted into Gryffindor for his oddest courage, he just replied that it wasn't courage. It was lack of caring. And anyways, when he was sorted, he was enraged, despairing, and blamed the Sorting Hat itself.

Its reaction was true entertainment.

(doesn't take away the what if. doesn't take away the maybe if I. could have done better, could have saved them)

When Robin eased himself into his chair, looking around and breathing deeply, he knew nothing could be changed. Everyone was silently comforting him, knowing something was wrong and letting him know he was not the only one in a desolate world, and he didn't care about the 'what ifs' and the 'maybe if I's'. No _words _were needed.

Words were superfluous, and though questioning looks were thrown to his uncharacteristic actions, he ignored them.

Questions could wait for the next night. They didn't care about where he came from, they only wanted to know his real side, who he truly was.

(who am I? I am Robin, Dick, Richard. all the people I have ever been)

All they needed were the stars, and, for once, something about the stars was enough.

* * *

**16. "Brothers, Sons..." "And Demons."**

_He can't run away from his history, the footfalls, the faces will always catch up to him. _

He knows how the nightmare goes. It always starts with a little baby boy being born out of a test tube, eyes afire with the brightly lit genetics lab. The men and women in gas masks tell him his name is Dominic al Ghul, and he is the biological son of the Batman and Talia al Ghul. DNA is on his side. Dominic understands every single word. An IQ most geniuses will be envious of are a side effect to being altered to physical and mental perfection.

Yet it isn't Nature, but Nurture that sets this experiment apart from being another one of the Shadows' austere, sadistic, brutal, and indoctrinated pawns. At least he attempts to be human, though all attempts are dismissed as futile, and soon he learns the art of acting.

Nothing is the way he wants it.

Nurtured not by Talia al Ghul and her dogmatic ways, instead by the vast island of articles and unadulterated knowledge that created the Library, he desires ravenously, needs the very tangible thing all of literature calls a family.

Seldom does he show it, he has mastered the art of the stoic face, he has mastered the art of cajoling, the art of adapting. Taking on a second skin. Over time, he yearns for something more than filling in the oversized shoes of a megalomaniacal Ra's al Ghul.

Unbeknownst to Mother, in her eyes he is the flawless child. Perfect creation of her womb.

Only he doesn't want to live in this life. He doesn't want to live in an life of empty promises, lavish wastes, self-indulgent days, and vainglorious dreams, all tucked together in a gilded golden cage. He wants to be a normal, bona fide homo sapiens.

He doesn't care about crime, about this new, better world.

Love, family, care. All concepts to him, so far away. He needs more, he can hide his inner desires and yearnings, but there is always a limit. Since the day he learned how the art of being the perfect child, he is a ticking time bomb set on repeat.

It's only about time.

He wants his life to be like the circuses described so often in his books and stories, with fun, lights, the smell of popcorn and cotton candy. It is only about time, and when Dominic al Ghul is five years old, when Dominic al Ghul completes a project with months of work spent into it, months of leaving trails of hints to the Detective to make him find the League of Shadows compound to create the chaos for the environment, the Son of the Bat, the Heir to the League of Shadows, escapes.

It is March 21st, and Dominic al Ghul figures that is the day he is born anew.

Maybe Mother's failing is from pride and confidence, self-assured that her so-called heir would never abandon her grand plans. Was it incompetence? Was it looking down towards that little child?

Underestimated.

Wandering on the streets, he realizes how unprepared he is for this world. He realizes that even when he strives for something familial, he has no links to the outside world that will make him live the life the novels regale him with. Then he remembers, he wants his life to be like a circus, a life of freedom and happiness he knows only from the written word. A life he yearns for. And he is happy to find...

Haly's Circus is in town.

* * *

Mary Grayson can still feel the pain of losing her first son in childbirth, Richard John Grayson, and the vestiges of the pain creep back into her heart when she sees this child standing there, eyes tentative, though proud, hesitant, though arrogant. He's a pale boy of five years, coal black hair, cerulean eyes, and delicate features.

Stumbling in his words, the boy begins speaking in something that sounds like Arabian, but stops when both she and John stare at him blankly. He seems to curse under his breath, before taking a second to calm himself.

Next he rattles off in French, of which she understands only a third, until switching to Russian, Italian, German, until he settles on English, by which they are shocked by the diversity in the child's languages.

"Greetings. I am in need of a family."

Something about the boy makes her love him immediately.

Gladly, Mary and John take him in, though he never tells them his name, or where he comes from. Searches come up with nothing at all, and they decide to stop looking. They are sure he is something extraordinary, and he assumes the name of Richard 'Dick' John Grayson.

However, he does reveal one piece of information.

"I was born on...March 21st."

She laughed the sound of tinkling bells, while John ruffled his hair, "Well, well, well, aren't you a little robin?"

One year later, he is laughing, _flying _along with them on the trapeze, Rick, Karla, and Johnny all agreeing heartily, even when Jack Haly questions the wisdom of allowing a child with one year of training on a netless trapeze. Jack changes his mind as soon as he sees Dick fly.

He seems born to fly. Mary can always credit her woman's intuition.

Obviously, it isn't his physical prowess she is worried about. Dick is an endearing child, but his sudden arrival and placement in the leading show, and the attitude he wore in the circus to begin with places a target on his back. No one but the two Grayson households even begin to tolerate him, labelling him 'demon-spawn' and 'hell-child', without consideration towards his presence, or the eerie fact that the boy can hear anything.

Mary _knows _it's just green envy spouting waste into the air, but how do you accept that your son's only companion is your nephew, no matter how kind and how understanding Johnny is, and how Johnny completely transforms Dick, how do you face this failure as a mother?

And _god_, it isn't just the kids who do it!

Dione, the new fortune-teller from Greece, meets Dick on April Fool's, and she freezes in her steps the moment she sees him. Pointing a crooked finger, fearful glint in her eyes, she stalks to Dick, with Mary running up to Dick, only to be told to stay put by him. There's so much command in the voice, Mary's afraid what would happen if she says no.

"You!" Dione's voice rasps, spittle flying from her unnaturally white teeth, as it twists Mary's guts with dread, "You know what you are, τέρας?"

Dick seems to revert to the haughty speech patterns from three years ago, when they first found him at five years. "Of course, you ignorant harlot! I am Ibn al Xu'ffasch, I am the bastard son of a she-demon and a creature of the night. Your attempts on enlightening me are failing. I suggest you surrender." Mary never knew her pint-sized son could look so menacing.

"Demon Child!" Dione spits on the ground.

"If that's what I am, that is what I shall be." The defeated acceptance tinged with pride almost breaks Mary's heart. A child should not sound like that.

Scrutinizing Dick still, Dione walks away, muttering, while Dick settles back into his chipper self.

"Mami! Mami! I got something really really cool to tell you! If disburser means-"

"Let's wait until after the show, it's our first time performing in Gotham," she says, mind still mulling over the events that played out.

This show is her last.

_Falling _so _fast _was never intention! And as the despair fills her heart and her eyes widen with the approaching earth, she tries to scream, "I love you," to her son watching hellishly from the platform, but her throat constricts and her bones break in the fall before she can utter a word.

It takes 1.76 seconds for her to fall the fifty feet of air to the ground.

* * *

When he's thirteen his facade is shattered for a single moment, as if bones on the cold, unyielding earth. It shatters into pieces of broken glass, cutting into his flesh as the mirror cracked under the pressure of his fist, veins pounding with adrenaline. Flashing back to all of the series of events and variables that lead to this moment, Robin takes a moment to wonder why this affects him so, why, with all of his efforts to distance himself from the biological parents no one but himself knows about, he still cares.

Admittedly, he has moved on years ago, yet it still chills him to find out how easily he is replaced.

Bruce Wayne taking him in was never part of any convoluted plans to learn under the Dark Knight. Even the omniscient Alfred Pennyworth does not know of where Richard Grayson's DNA comes from, and the whys of his intelligence.

Pretending his first training in combat was with Batman was indeed difficult, but it leads to these moments spent saving these people he could never do otherwise, honoring those who saved him at the moment where he needed it most, those who never called him a demon.

He chose the name Robin as a final, cryptic 'go to hell, or better yet Bludhaven' for Talia al Ghul. He is not fighting for the sake of his bloodline, he is fighting for the people who mean much more to him than chemical make-up. Vowing never to call Bruce Wayne any variation of 'Father', Dick knows that is the least he can do for his adoptive parents, for the ones that truly matter.

So why he holed himself in his room after they found Damian Wayne, he does not know.

Robin's knuckles are clenched, stark white and trembling furiously, wondering why he is surprised Talia replaced him the year he escaped. If he expected it to happen, why does it hurt so much?

He looks into the cracked mirror that will demand an explanation the next day, and tries desperately to convince himself. "This changes nothing," he intones. Voice in the back of his head take this as an excuse to start a brawl. Each of them shouting a different variation of, "This changes everything!" It is a losing battle against the executioners in his mind, urging him to tell Bruce and Talia who he is, and tell them both to stuff it.

It's a tantalizing offer.

That's when Jason and Tim come in, for once not complaining about each other.

"Grayson, you have to tell the Demon Spawn to shut it! The little &$%# thinks he's so much better than all of us 'cause he's related to Brucie. Could'ya get the $#%& % piece of &% to shut the %$#% up?"

"Demon Spawn's hogging the gym, Dick, how can you stand him?"

Something snaps in Dick, he furrows his brows and gazes at his brothers as if finally seeing him for the first time. "Did you two just...call Damian...Demon Spawn?" he manages to force out. He never thought...his brothers...how could they be so cruel?

Until then, Robin never appreciated how fortunate he was. When he escaped from the palm of Mother's hand, he had the parents in Mary and John Grayson, the family in Rick and Karla Grayson, and the friendship, the mentoring in ways of an outside world, in John Paul Grayson, cousin, friend. Brother in all but blood.

The only way he is the way he is today is through their neverending flow of support.

Maybe they can't always get a Mary and John, or a Rick and Karla, but he can at the very least try to strive for, emulate, what Johnny did for him. After all, now he actually has a brother _in blood. _

"He's not Demon Spawn. The bastard sons of she-demons and creatures of nights have souls too." Robin pauses to give a glare so deep, since the anger is so heartfelt and so scorching, an unresolved passion, that it even appalls Red Hood and Red Robin.

What did they miss? Why was their brother so protective over this _usurper_?

Dick was wondering the same thing, until he begins reminiscing on his years in Haly's, how one family made all the difference in his life..."He's not a Demon Spawn," he tries to convince himself more than his brothers, fingers tracing the spidery lines of cracked glass of the mirror of which none of his brothers saw, "He's one of us now, and if he is a Demon, then I'll be one too."

Later, when Damian demands an answer to what Dick is doing when he is doing, Dick just says that he wants to escape the past. Let bygones be bygones, yet mostly just escape.

* * *

"What has the fool Grayson gotten himself into this time, Father?" Damian, alias Nightwing, asks petulantly as Batman returns from Mount Justice, taken there by news of an issue with Robin. The thirteen-year old Grayson is overly affectionate, consistently condescending, recklessly idiotic, and ignorantly _weak_, the kind of person Mother feeds to the wolves.

By instinct, Damian also realizes that Grayson, who is constantly blathering on about things such as Barbara Gordon, patrol, asinine fake words, and this cousin of his, is hiding something.

For some reason, even though Damian will be tortured for hours before he will admit it, Grayson knows exactly what to do or to say when Damian is upset, even though they have known each other for only four months, and Damian can never see inside the imbecile's eyes, always covered with either sunglasses or masks. Anytime Damian brings this up in the subtlest fashion, Grayson changes the subject to that of Johnny Grayson.

Needless to say, there is something Damian does not trust in Grayson.

Father scrutinizes him, before growling, "Robin was resisting a DNA test after all his team were shot with experimental serums. I was able to extract DNA samples from him, he is currently in the acrobatics equipment on Mount Justice."

Damian smiles, just a hint of a smile. He does not let it turn into one of Grayson's inane grins, nonetheless letting the smile appear on his features. So, the great Boy Wonder is afraid of needles and DNA testing? This will be of great advantage, Damian thinks none too discreetly, as even the butler Pennyworth notices.

Nightwing suits up to get to Mount Justice. Months ago, someone would have stopped him, but now they know that they should allow Damian to go to wherever he wishes if he has his knives.

And Damian _always _has his knives.

Passing by Todd and Drake, Damian does not even acknowledge them with a scowl anymore. It was no longer worth the valuable effort. Anyhow, for some reason, the two have decided to stray away from him. Does he really care? No, it is all the better for him.

Damian Wayne, the Son of the Bat, does not mingle with inferiors.

The Zeta Beams sounded, as his designation is announced by the feminine voice. Damian walks in, where all of the Team, except for Grayson, are seated in the recreational area.

"Where is that moron?" he demands imperiously at the five teens lounging on the couch, trying to convince the Superman clone to change the channel from static, meanwhile the clone has a rather tentatively mischievous look on his face, hands clutching the partially broken remote control. Damian holds no respect for the clone, who enjoys the company of the waste of space that is _Drake_, so even though the clone has strength, he does not have logical judgement. The clone is a pawn.

The martian is weak, as is Grayson, and Flash's protege is unprofessional, a child playing a man's game. The Atlantean is no real competition for anything, not strong enough to do what is necessary. The archer girl is interesting, though prior knowledge of the sister makes Damian distrust her, even when she might be the only one who understands.

Grayson, he just _does not understand. _

Children born and bred as assassins are not the same as those who grew as real children.

Receiving no answer from the team that prefers to ignore Damian in general, he passes the gym, yet not a single trace of the imbecile is there. Deciding to go to the infirmary, instead, Damian finds Grayson sitting on a chair, hooked to the mainframe of Mount Justice systems.

Damian wants to know what Grayson is fumbling with, so he sidles furtively, though he expects Grayson to notice him. He is so engrossed in whatever he is working on that Damian's footfalls do not stir him.

Is he...hacking into Justice League Databases?

"Damn it! When did covering my tracks from Batman's sensors get so difficult?" Grayson mutters to himself. Damian grins, knowing he has something on the child who insistently calls himself a 'brother' of his, something fantastic.

Maybe it is something even Father does not know.

Still smiling wickedly, Damian walks forward and commands, "Robin, I order you to tell me why you are hacking into the databases of the Justice League."

Immediately, Grayson flinches horribly, and even with mask on, Damian can see the fear. Barely covering up the files he is looking at, Grayson manages to smile weakly, a smile that, for once, is not an ounce sincere. "Hi Wing, didn't see you there! How did you know I was here?"

"Tt. Your attempts at altering the direction of the discourse is failing. Why are you hacking into the JLA databases?" Damian cranes his neck, cursing his short stature, at eight years. "The DNA files? You are a clone! You must be the mole!" He grabs the collar of Grayson's cape, and holds a knife to his neck, "Tell me!"

As Grayson is pushed away from the mainframe, Damian continues holding the knife to him, choosing to look at the files as well. "These DNA patterns are familiar...the system recognizes you as the son of Batman and Talia al Ghul? What trickery are you instigating?"

"I can't believe it..." Grayson looks shell-shocked, "You? Why couldn't it be Batman, Jay, or even Timmy? Why did it have to be you to find out...? I thought I _escaped _that life, that _past_!"

All the pieces fall into place, except one. "You are...? You truly are? How?"

Using that chance to delete the filing of the DNA as related to Talia al Ghul and Batman, Grayson looks into Damian's covered eyes. "Sit down, this is going to take a long time to explain."

The next hour is a detailed explanation of Grayson, or Dominic al Ghul's life and origins. Damian does not speak a single time during the one-sided conversation, mulling over the point that this constantly happy person could have the DNA of Father and Mother, and that he was only the second copy of a first experiment. Maybe they really are brothers, even in blood.

Only at the end of the explanation does Damian say anything. "I wish to meet your cousin."

One week later, without explanation to their mentor, they both visit the graves of the Grayson families. They bring nothing except for yellow roses and hydrangeas, armed with nothing except for their words. Grayson begins by saying hello to the marble tombstones erected under the weeping willow, continuing to rattle off characteristically on a prattle of meaningless words. This time, Damian understands why, though. If he keeps speaking, it seems as if he is running away from the past, while the past is constantly catching up.

It's when Grayson introduces Damian to the graves as a _part of the family,_ that Damian realizes there are tears in his own eyes.

"I am their son, more a son of Mary and John Grayson than Bruce and Talia. It isn't blood that makes us fathers and sons, is it? And, if you're my brother, doesn't that mean you are Mary and John's child too?" Grayson asks lightly, wiping away the trails of tears on his sleeve.

"Tt. In the end, you never did escape the past."

"I guess not." Grayson kicks at the dirt.

"Your efforts do not change the fact that you are the demonic bastard son of Talia al Ghul and Bruce Wayne, does it?"

"I never thought it did."

"Are you going to tell Todd, Drake, and Father?"

"I think so. They deserve the truth. Anyways, it's time I stopped running."

"Only cowards run."

"Too bad I'm a Demon Spawn. But Dami, if we are demons, isn't it nicer to acknowledge it all and be demons together?"

"Like brothers."

Grayson grins crookedly, a mad glint shining in his blue eyes that are so much like Damian's, for once without the mask hiding emotion. "And demons."

* * *

**Done, I have to get off the computer, so no long drawn out AN for you! **

**Eh, have a nice day. **

**I liked number 15 and number 13. **

**What about you? **

**Review!**


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